


Conversations; All In Blue

by abnegative



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24644878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abnegative/pseuds/abnegative
Summary: 𝘐𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢 12 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦11 '𝘏𝘦𝘺𝘴' (𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘺, 𝘩𝘦𝘺)𝘛𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘕𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘐 𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘵 7, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘹 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 (𝘺𝘢𝘺)𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺?Junhui needs healing. When he escapes to a rundown beach house in a small coastal village he finds the things that restore his soul and mend his heart and mind.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 33
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter 1

He knew he should have bought a new car.

As dust flared up behind him he couldn’t resist putting the top down though. The fresh scent of saline whipped through his hair and he smiled for the first time in a long time. The six weeks in the hospital had evidently done him some good. The smile felt real and he didn’t even have to force it. It came from witin and was for no one but himself. There was no one to see the façade, the false happiness, the glamourous pretence.

It was just Junhui and the wind in his hair as his car sped along the dusty coastal road towards a place he owned but had never been.

When he’d finally broken down, his manager finding him unconscious in a pool of his own vomit, it was the last straw. His career was in tatters, his reputation shattered, his friendships all destroyed. He’d slipped so slowly, a pill here or there, something to take the edge off. Then it was someitng to stave off the hunger and keep him buzzing through another endless photo shoot. Then it was something to bring him down again and help him sleep afterwards. Then it was all the time, morning and night, days on and days off. The spiral of his career downward had been swift and savage. Within a year he’d gone from the most in demand male model in Asia to drying out in a special drug ward.

He was lucky in a lot of ways. His Manager, his best friend and constant in his life, had protected him from himself as best he could. His assets were mostly intact and, while his reputation and career had been shredded, his bank account wasn’t completely emptied. When he was released from the hospital and he met with his Manager to review his assets he was surprised to see the small seaside cottage on the list. He’d never been so glad to have someone else overseeing his investments and, while there were a few properties on the list, none intrigued him like the idea of a beach house.

“It was a steal and it will increase in value,” Minghao told him as they sat across from each other. “It’s in pretty bad condition but it just needs a little love and care.”

His Manager was stylish as always, suited to perfection, hair and jewellery impeccable. Junhui was sallow and drawn, his complexion spotty and dry, his hair a mess. He was all dark roots and dark circles but at least he was sober now. At least he was alive. “I want to see it,” he said on spur of the moment and Minghao nodded. “I want to get away, take three months off, rebuild my life and this would be the perfect place.” “I’ll get the keys,” was all Minghao said. He knew how much Junhui needed it.

A week later he was headed to a place he’d never been to live in a house he’d never seen before. The spotlight had lost its allure and for once Junhui wanted to just go somewhere where no one knew his name and no one cared who he was. Most of all, for his own sake, he wanted to go somewhere where he wouldn’t be able to score drugs at the drop of a hat. The city was a dangerous place for him and the hospital stay had cleansed his system of the most immediate effects but it was his mind which he had to work on. 

His body was healing. His mind would take longer.

He didn’t know if his heart ever would.

As his car hit the bitumen of the towns main road he slowed down. As he drove past a small group of men they all turned and stared and he quickly put the top back up on his car. He should have realised how much it would make him stand out and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention. Junhui was sure he’d had enough attention to last him for a lifetime. The navigation system guided him along the street, past a coffee shop and a bookstore, a grocery shop and a hardware shop. Finally he turned at the end and when he stopped the car he almost stopped breathing.

It was spectacular. The little beach house was weathered and fading. The white and blue paint was peeling and falling off in patches and weeds stood waist high in the tiny front yard. There was even a picket fence, white and splintered, and what looked like a stone path under the weeds leading from the front porch all the way to the gate hanging off its hinges.

And then there was the beach.

White sand stretched for miles and the ocean lapped gently at the shore. As Junhui walked across the damp sand in his Gucci loafers his hair whipped up again and he inhaled and exhaled deeply. This was a place he could learn to breathe again.

Sunlight sparkled off every surface as far as his eyes could see. Nothing could be heard but the easy ebb and flow of the tide against the sand and a car far off in the distance. It couldn’t be any further away from the thumping bass and headache inducing lights of the party scene he’d left behind. 

A gull suddenly squalled overhead and Junhui was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to kick off his shoes and run. To run along the waters edge, wild and carefree, like he remembered from his childhood. That indescribable feeling of just running, not towards anything, not away from anything, just running for the joy and exhilaration.

It made him want to reclaim who he was under all the makeup and the clothing, behind the mask of perfection and pretence, who he was without the drinking and drugs. Who he’d once been, running barefoot and joyous, living life in the moment without insecurities or fears.

He toed his shoes off and ignored the flick of sand landing all over the expensive grained leather. He dug his bare feet deep into the wet sand and let the harsh sting bring him back to earth. 

It was grounding and he knew then, in that crystal clear moment, he’d done the right thing. 

This place was healing.


	2. Chapter 2

His body felt stiff and sore. The bed he found in the downstairs bedroom was the only one and the sheets were musty but free from dust. Today he’d have to take a trip around the little coastal village and see what was available and what he’d have to order in.

Junhui needed a project and this old house was perfect to keep his mind off the itch of addiction for a few months. The itch was always there, like the spot on your back you just couldn’t reach to scratch, but he had to push past it. Each day became easier; some easier than others, some days were still a nightmare where he wanted to pull each hair from his head. But he would endure. He had to if he wanted to survive.

More than just survive; Junhui wanted to live again.

He needed a coffee but there was no kettle and nothing in the cupboards. He wanted food but there was no working refrigerator and he didn’t think to pick up any groceries the day before. There was no TV to watch and no radio for background noise so Junhui took a shower in the downstairs bathroom and dressed in clothes from his suitcase.

The one bedroom downstairs held an array of antique looking furniture which, if he worked out how to do it, could probably be restored into something beautiful. There was a tall wardrobe, a heavy dresser, and the bed was a huge four-poster which looked like something out of a movie. Time and the salty air had degraded them into a state almost beyond repair but Junhui remembered fragments of woodworking during high school and how much he enjoyed the scent of sawdust.

His hand trailed down one of the posts of the bed and a little varnish cracked under the drag of his fingertips. A few flakes dropped onto the floor exposing the bare wood beneath the degraded finish and Junhui swallowed heavily as he flicked a splinter out of his thumb. The bed, weathered and tired, fractured on the surface, was raw and flawlessly beautiful underneath. A little love and a lot of attention could strip this back to its natural state and rebuild it into something worthwhile.

Just like him, the surface looked beyond repair, but at its heart it was strong and it would endure, and one day be reborn as something beautiful to be treasured.

He shook his head and went back into the kitchen to find his phone and make a list. Then he headed into town on foot. It was barely a five-minute walk to anywhere and he wouldn’t need his attention drawing vehicle for a while.

His heart leaped with joy in his chest when he came across the small café facing the water’s edge. Coffee was exactly what he needed.

The smell of vanilla and cinnamon hit him immediately as the bell over the door rang. The place was mostly empty, Junhui wasn’t surprised, small coastal towns barely survived the winter. If he was still here in the summer he imagined this place to be packed to the rafters with city dwellers.

He looked around and admired the aesthetic. The tables were square and just big enough for two; scattered under the lights reflecting on the hard wood floor. There were a few booths along a side wall and a long bar ran the length of a floor to ceiling wall looking out on the beach. Bar stools seemed to be the designated seats for loners. Each table was adorned with a little vase filled with different flowers, daisies and lavenders, roses and lilies. The hazelnut and coffee and sugar in the air was so thick Junhui could taste it. His stomach rumbled and he realised he hadn’t tasted anything sweet without throwing it back up in years.

“Good morning,” a bright smile greeted him from behind the counter. The man had warm eyes and dark hair and thick full lips which gave him a soft look. Junhui felt his smile growing infectious and almost smiled back. “I’ll have a long black no sugar,” he said as he stared at the rainbow of cakes and donuts and pastries behind the glass. “Sure,” the man said with another soft gummy smile and the itch in Junhui’s brain began to tingle again.

“Actually,” he said before the man could turn away, “I’ll have a tall hazelnut latte with whole milk. And one of those croissants. And a donut. Chocolate.” He pulled his wallet out before he could change his mind.

Settled at the bar Junhui stared out at the ocean. It was rolling angrily towards the shore, each wave crashing aggressively into the sand, before retreating somewhat slowly and gently. He breathed deep and tried to control his thoughts and keep his emotions in check. When the barista put the coffee and food down in front of him he knew he was going to have to make a call to his therapist.

Junhui came here to change, to heal and recover, and eating something was the first step.

The food was delicious but his mind still rejected it. He battled the war within, sitting at the bar for an hour, forcing most of the croissant and half the donut down. He sat there and stared at the ocean, the ebb and flow of the water, and ignored the itch in his brain niggling at him to run to the bathroom.

He wasn’t going to do it. This time he was going to win.

“I’m new around here,” he said to the barista when he was on his way out. “You don’t say!” The baristas teasing response was depreciating but not mocking and his eyes were kind. “I, um, I’m going to fix up some stuff in the house I bought. Is there a hardware store?” “Sure,” the barista pointed in the opposite direction to Junhui’s house. “Keep walking that way and you’ll find it. It’s not huge but he should have most of the things you need.” “Thank you,” Junhui bowed politely to him before walking out.

The food in his belly irritated him and by the time he found the hardware store Junhui had picked a hangnail until it was bleeding. The store had that musty smell, potting soil and treated pine and paint thinners all mixed together, and he found a tall man standing behind the counter.

He walked over and couldn’t help but think how much his agency would love this guy. He was even taller than Junhui, which was tall, and he had glowing golden skin and thick dark hair. “Hi,” Junhui said a little shyly, “I want some stuff to fix up some furniture in my house.” “Okay,” the man eyed him a little curiously, “what kind of furniture?” “A bed and a dresser?” Junhui looked around and the man laughed loudly taking him by surprise. “No, I mean what kind of wood. And what kind of finish do you want? Stains, lacquers, varnishes?”

“I don’t know,” Junhui said as he looked around. He was the only customer in the shop and wasn’t surprised. The town was almost dead. “Um, it’s kind of old, I bought the beach house up on the hill overlooking the water.”

“Oh, that place, the one with the little fence?” The man walked around from behind the counter as Junhui nodded. “That place has been empty for ages. I bet the salty air really did a number on the antiques in there.” He smiled, as radiant and warming as sunlight on damp sand, and Junhui relaxed a little. “You should go see my friend who owns the bookshop. He has a heap of antiques there and he knows a lot about restoring them.”

“Okay,” Junhui said as he looked around. “Where’s the bookshop?” “Oh,” the tall man’s face fell a little into a sad pout. “Sorry, you’re new here I guess, I’m Mingyu.” He reached out and grabbed Junhui’s hand and began to shake it vigorously. “I’m Junhui,” he replied and Mingyu furrowed his brow. “You look familiar for some reason. You come here in the summer?” Junhui shook his head no and Mingyu chuckled. “Maybe you just look like someone. Keep walking this way and take a left at the cafe. You know where that is?” “Yeah,” Junhui nodded and smiled, surprising himself. “I just had breakfast there.” 

“Awesome, so you met Seungcheol then, he’ll be your new best friend if you let him.” Junhui smiled again, this time less genuine, he wasn’t sure if he wanted friends here. They’d ask too many questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

“So take a left and keep walking towards the beach and you’ll find the bookstore. It’s across the road from the supermarket and it has a big sign over the door.”

Junhui nodded his thanks. “Okay and come back when he tells you what you need and I’ll help you find it. Make sure you tell him Mingyu sent you.” “I will,” Junhui backed towards the door and left as the bell rang out his speedy exit. The guy was just being friendly, Junhui knew that, but he still couldn’t help feeling a little suffocated. Everyone here was so neighbourly and easygoing and he really just wanted to hide out for a few months and be alone. It wasn’t in his nature to be rude but the people here were almost ridiculously nice. He was a little reticent to meet the bookshop owner.

The full feeling in his stomach faded as he wandered back along the road towards the cafe. When he reached it he turned and was back at the beach. The supermarket, if you could call it that, stood at the end of the road next to a desolate looking holiday park, and across from it was a two story shopfront with a big polished wood sign that read “Old Habits.”

“Yeah,” Junhui mumbled to himself as he headed across the road, “they sure do die hard.” He opened the door expecting the merry ring of a bell but it slid open in silence.

The bookshop was small but roomy and filled with deep dark wooden bookcases. Junhui didn’t know what kind of wood they were but they all matched and had a stunning red tint to the glossy finish. He wandered along them towards a vacant counter and his eye was caught by a row of black and white photos lining the wall. They were stunning, studies of ocean and waves, driftwood and cliffs and caves, shells and corals and tangled fishing net around piers and buoys. Junhui had seen a lifetime worth of photos and he knew these were some of the best he’d ever seen.

“Can I help you?” A deep voice made him turn with surprise and he found himself face to face with a man as tall as he was. His hair was dark and short, his glasses round and a little crooked on his nose, his face as handsome as it was impassive.

“Are you the owner?” Junhui asked as the beautiful man walked towards him and the owner nodded. “I’m Wonwoo,” he said and held his hand out with a bow.

Junhui held his breath. The man was the opposite of the other two he’d met that day. He was softly spoken, gentle, reticent and cautious rather than enthusiastic. “I’m Junhui,” he said in reply, momentarily forgetting about his furniture. “Are you the one who took these photos?” Wonwoo nodded and a small smile turned the corners of his mouth up a little. “Are you a photographer too?” he asked and Junhui shook his head. “No, I mean, not yet but I’ve always kind of wanted to learn.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: anxiety / eating disorders / picking / substance abuse / panic attacks / cognitive behaviour therapy

Junhui was stunned. The man’s beauty was only matched by the beauty in his photos adorning the walls of the antiques and the reverberant baritone of his voice was so unexpected.

“Mingyu sent me here,” Junhui said as his brain tried to unpack a better response and came up lacking. “He said you could help me with fixing up some old furniture. I’ve bought the place on the beach with the low fence; over on Nautilus Drive.”

Junhui watched the man’s brows unfurrow into a soft smile. “Used to be the Park place years ago. Mrs Park died a while back and I guess her grandchildren didn’t want a house on the beach.” Junhui watched the man walk back around the counter and grab a set of keys. “I’ll come and have a look at what you have. I’m guessing you went to the hardware shop first?” Junhui nodded and followed him out the door.

The breeze was cold as they walked along the road back towards the house. Junhui’s morning out had kind of taken him on a loop around the small town and now he was headed back in the direction he originally came from. The silence between the two men hung heavy, not oppressive, comforting like a warm blanket. Junhui’s mind was racing and he appreciated the rest from the constant need to make small talk.

“So, are you staying long?” Wonwoo asked when they’d walked all the way to the bottom of the little hill. “Three months,” Junhui replied. “I’ve taken some leave from my job and I need a break. I picked the house up as an investment and I figured I could maybe spend some time doing it up myself.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Beachside living in the winter. Not many people would sign up for that kind of disappointment.” Junhui wasn’t sure if he was joking and he had to look sideways to see if the man was smiling or not. To his relief, and amusement, the corners of Wonwoo’s mouth were turned up just enough for him to know it was a joke and smile in return.

“The fence is a write off,” Wonwoo said as he pushed at the barely hanging gate. “It’s not worth saving anyway. It’s fairly modern, definitely not original, and Mingyu can order in some replacement fencing for you to dig in.” They walked up to the front of the house and Junhui could tell Wonwoo was excited to see what he had inside.

“Wow,’ Junhui watched Wonwoo walk in and go straight over to the hall stand in the entry way. “All of this looks turn of the century, probably original when the house was built.” The wood on the stand was in reasonable condition and Junhui watched Wonwoo run his hands along the grain. “It’s really beautiful. It’s in good condition though.” “The bedroom is the worst,” Junhui said and Wonwoo followed him into the room.

“This needs a lot of work,” Wonwoo said as he ran his fingers along the post of the enormous bed. “It will take a lot of time and you’ll have to sand most of this back by hand. It’s also going to be impossible to move it so you’ll have to lay down sheets and do it in here.” Junhui watched him walk around and inspect the window frames of the big bay window looking out onto the beach. “This window needs fixed. Years of drafts and cold damp air have ruined it.” Junhui could see the gap in the window frame Wonwoo was pointing to.

Junhui watched on in amusement as the man, technology seemingly unappealing, pulled a little spiral notebook from his back pocket. It had a short pencil stuck inside the coiled plastic spine and he began to jot down notes. “You ever done anything like this before?” Junhui’s embarrassment was barely hidden as he shook his head. “I was just going to watch a YouTube tutorial or something....”

The idea seemed incomprehensible to Wonwoo who scowled a little from behind his owlish glasses. “No,” he shook his head, “you’ll ruin something, there’s too much misinformation out there.” He wandered across the room and checked out the ancient dresser and the splintered bedside tables. “I’ll find you a book, something trustworthy, something that will help you….” Junhui could almost hear the man thinking as he ran a hand across the bedside table and pouted at the tiny shard of wood that stuck in his finger. “Are you okay?” he rushed over and reached out for his hand but the man shirked his touch. “I’m fine,” Wonwoo said quickly and hid his hand behind his back. Junhui was a little puzzled but let the reaction slide. He wasn’t about to start an uncomfortable conversation with a stranger.

He watched Wonwoo write in his notebook before the man tore a page out and handed it over. “Here’s a list of things you’ll need. Mingyu should have most of this, the sandpaper and stuff, the varnishes he might have to order in. You’ll need new fittings for the drawers and I guess it depends how authentic you want them……” he looked around again before smiling. “If you don’t care then just order something from Mingyu. Getting genuine antique replacements might be too hard.”

He walked out leaving Junhui trailing in his wake. “Maybe you might come and help me get started? Just to make sure I’m doing it right?” He felt suddenly shy in a way he hadn’t experienced for a long long time. He felt his ears heat up as he shivered under the cold fire of Wonwoo’s spectacled gaze. He didn’t know what it was about the man that had drawn him in so quickly. It felt more than just physical, even though the man was incredibly beautiful, there was something so distracting about his calm mannerisms and his unaffected personality. He was sure every smile, while scarce and fleeting, was as genuine as it was stunningly gorgeous.

It felt like hours as Wonwoo stared and processed the request. Just when Junhui thought he was about to say no he turned the corners of his mouth slightly again. “Okay,” he said and Junhui grinned widely. His million-dollar smile, dazzlingly effective at selling everything from toothpaste to luxury cars, seemed to lack its magic here in this town where everyone was just living their lives. This man in front of him was so unaffected by everything the world could offer, the luxuries, the temptations. He was just who he wanted to be without the pressure and expectation of the outside world and it was something Junhui found very enviable. He wondered how it would feel to just stay here forever and just be Junhui, not the model, not the party boy who you could depend on for a laugh at 3am, not the disappointment he’d turned into.

“I’ll buy you dinner as a thank you,” Junhui felt the words leave his mouth before he could reign them in. “There isn’t really anything open around here at night,” Wonwoo’s smile was gone before it even really began. “There’s a pub in the next town over though.” “What about lunch then? In the café?” He was on a roll and he couldn’t stop. He felt like he was out of control again, hurtling head first into the unknown, not knowing if he was going to be irrevocably hurt. Nevertheless, it was too late. The smile was back, warm and comforting and so soft, and he felt himself lean into it and melt.

“Okay,” Wonwoo said and the smile grew. It spread from the corners of his mouth up to his eyes and even scrunched his nose a little. It was perfect.

A feeling swirled up around him, unlike anything Junhui had ever felt before, and he tried to grasp onto it. It was frightening, fleeing and intangible, and he wanted more of it. “Okay,” he replied as well, his brain lacking any response other than to echo, and he felt his body relax.

“I’ll come past the shop tomorrow morning,” Junhui ushered Wonwoo towards the door and opened it for him. “Okay, goodbye,” Wonwoo turned to walk down the garden path and Junhui held his breath as he hoped desperately for the man to stop and turn, throw one last look backwards, offer a final parting gift of small wave or tenacious smile. He didn’t, he just pushed at the gate barely hanging on its hinges, and turned on the path back to town.

As soon as he closed the door Junhui sighed loudly. What a day. He’d never ever felt like this and wondered if it was the man he met or if it was his newly sober neurotransmitters firing into existence inside his detoxed brain. He needed to know and grabbed his phone from the hall stand before heading out onto the beach barefoot.

It was a little late but he made the call anyway, knowing the other would pick up. “Hello?” Jeonghan’s face appeared on the screen and Junhui tried to relax again. “Is everything okay?” Jeonghan’s face was soothing but the question was just leading. If everything was okay he wouldn’t have called. “Do you have time?” Junhui sank down in the damp sand and let the cold feeling seep through his jeans. Jeonghan just nodded. “Yeah I have time.”

“Tell me something good that happened today.” The therapist Junhui credited with saving his life was stern and comforting, serious and joyful, warm and caring and not afraid to speak the truth. He was everything Junhui needed on his road to recovery and Junhui relied on him a lot. He’d agreed with Junhui’s need to get away from the scene and had scheduled regular phone therapy sessions. The knowledge he could call on Jeonghan even from a distance was the security Junhui still needed.

“I ate today,” he smiled brightly into the phone as his nail picking gave him away. The hand not focused on holding the iPhone in front of him was absorbed in picking at a loose strand of skin barely attached to the side of his nail. The wind whipped up and blew his hair around, streaks of dark silk against the stormy sky. “How did if feel?” Jeonghan asked and Junhui pulled at the skin making it bleed. “Weird,” he said as he stuck his bleeding finger into his mouth. “Sick, uneasy, but I kept it down.” “What made you keep it down?” Junhui knew Jeonghan was asking for verification and confirmation of using the coping techniques he’d been learning through his cognitive behaviours therapy and he shrugged. He didn’t have the answer Jeonghan wanted. “I met someone,” he said instead.

He saw Jeonghan raise an eyebrow through the phone screen and knew what he was going to say. “Someone like a friend?” His eyes were implicit and Junhui knew what he was going to say. Junhui wasn’t stable enough yet to even think about pursuing someone romantically. “I could do with a friend,” Junhui admitted as he sank down and sat in the damp sand. 

The sun was slipping and it was getting bitterly cold and he craved warmth and comfort. Eating earlier had been difficult but beneficial and, the bonus of eating, was that it made him crave more. He wondered if he still had time to go and get some groceries, maybe even try to cook something. It had been a long time since he even thought about cooking himself a meal but the frigid air and relentless wind made the idea of a hot soup or stew somehow palatable.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeonghan read his expression so well even through the phone and Junhui smiled. “Cooking actually. I think this place is good for me.” “Did you sleep last night?” Jeonghan asked and Junhui nodded his agreement. “I did and I think I’ll be fine tonight as well.” “Okay, well call me if you need me, and remember Junhui….” Jeonghan’s expression turned a little sterner and Junhui knew what he was going to say. “Focus on yourself. You aren’t ready.” It wasn’t anything he didn’t know. However, human comfort was becoming more and more covetous as he felt better. He’d left all his old friends behind; besides Minghao he’d cut off everyone.

He hung the phone up and struggled through the thick dense sand back up to the house. With the lights on it looked a little more homey and he really began to notice little things, little details that made it interesting. There was a fireplace in the main living room and Junhui thought it would be so nice to sit in there in the evenings with a roaring fire filling the room with light and heat. The front porch had a dilapidated old swing, which he wouldn’t trust, but could easily be replaced and would make a perfect place to huddle with a morning coffee. The dining room was filled with an enormous antique table and chairs, enough places for ten, but a little square table in the corner of the kitchen was all he would need. He began to mentally make a list and decided to visit the next town over and order some furniture tomorrow.

He wanted to make the grocery shop before it closed but he was also a little embarrassed of his car. It would draw too much attention and he was now convinced this wasn’t the kind of place where ostentatious displays of wealth were coveted or praised. He decided to rug up in a thick coat and walk there and set out with his phone, keys and wallet and the cold wind whipping his hair into a frenzy. He added a beanie and a pair of mittens to his mental shopping list and laughed ironically when he thought of the thousands of dollars’ worth of designer clothing he’d left in his Seoul apartment.

Junhui jammed his frozen hands in his pockets and began to pick up the pace. The sun set early here but it was still approaching 5pm and he knew the grocery store would close soon. He headed past the café and across the road and just made it as the shopkeeper was closing the doors. “Sorry,” Junhui apologised, he didn’t know what for, and turned to walk away but the man inside blessed him with a wide smile and unlocked the doors. “Come in,” he said and Junhui shook his head. “No, sorry, you’re closed.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the doors were flung open and the young man stared at him expectantly until Junhui relented and walked inside. It was gleaming and bright even with half the lights out and everything looked so clean. It was nothing at all like the slightly grimy and busily congested grocery stores from his neighbourhood in Seoul. He barely went into them anyway, unless it was for gum or soft drink to mix with his vodka. This was a totally different experience.

“Tourist?” the young man’s smile was as bright as everyone else’s in the town and Junhui wondered if there was something in the water here that made everyone seem so happy. “Kind of,” Junhui reached for a basket and looked around. “I’ve bought the big beach house on Naitilus Drive.” “The old Park place,” the young man grinned and handed Junhui a basket from the stack next to the shop’s one register.

Junhui looked around and didn’t know where to begin. His hands began to tremble, he shouldn’t be in here, he didn’t even know how to cook. He didn’t know how to cook or what to cook or even how to shop. “What are you making?” the young man began to walk in front of him leaving Junhui no option to follow. His breathing became shallow and the lights seemed too bright and he felt like he was going to die. 

Panic. Panic. Panic. His mind repeated it until he recognised it. He closed his eyes for a second and slowed his breathing and when he opened them the man was waiting patiently for his answer. It was like a wild animal, agressive when cornered, cowered when faced. He forced himself to calm down but he couldn’t force out a smile.

“Chicken soup,” he said eventually and the man smiled warmly, so warmly, saying nothing about Junhui’s obvious struggle. Chicken soup? Junhui didn’t know how to make chicken soup but this didn’t deter the man who led him across the store.

The young man rambled on about the fresh free range chicken breasts as he handed a packet to Junhui before leading him through the fruits and vegetables. He handed Junhui green onions and celery, carrots and garlic, and a knob of fresh ginger. He continued to chatter about how he’d recently taken over the family business from his grandfather as he led Junhui down an aisle and put chicken stock into his basket. He told Junhui about how he had moved back here from the city so he could run the store and surf in the mornings and all weekend. “What a lifestyle! Do you like rice with soup?” His eyes danced with a casual sort of joy as he added rice to the basket full of what Junhui guessed was the ingredients for a pot of chicken soup.

“Anything else?” “Yeah I don’t have a pot.” The young man’s laughter was raucous in the silent store until he realised Junhui was serious. He led him down another aisle and picked up a big pot with a lid and a spoon. “Anything else?” 

Junhui shook his head and the young man led him to the register area. “Oh,” Junhui’s eyes went to bags of firewood stacked by the exit. “One of those too.” He watched the man mentally add up what he had in the basket before smiling. “Just give me a twenty,” he stacked the groceries into the pot and then put it all into a plastic bag. “I can’t be bothered putting the register back on.”

Junhui shook his head but the man insisted. “Think of it as a welcome to town discount!” He handed the heavy bag to Junhui and handed him a bag of the firewood as the walked back out the door. Junhui made a mental note to come back tomorrow and spend a lot of money as he waved to the man and set off to struggle up the road with his heavy bags.

Barely minutes later an old station wagon pulled up alongside him. “You should have said you were walking! Get in!” It was the man from the grocery store and Junhui chuckled to himself at how perfect everyone was in this tiny seaside town. “I don’t usually take rides from strangers,” he said as he opened the door. “I’m Hansol! And you are-“ “Junhui,” he slid onto the seat and closed the door as the car pulled away from the curb. “Now we aren’t strangers,” Hansol said as he headed up the road leading straight to the beach house.

The five minute car ride was just long enough for Junhui to hear all about how much Hansol loved to surf, how much he loved the town, and how much he loved the store. Junhui listened with a quiet kind of curiosity; he never knew someone could get so much joy out of the ocean. It was foreign to him but ultimately so aspirational. He wished he could find the same pure unadulterated joy in something.

“Thanks again,” he said as he closed the car door and struggled up the dilapidated steps to the front door. Once inside he set to work with a new kind of determination. “Come on Junhui you aren’t a child,” he spoke out loud to himself as he found a knife in a drawer and cut the chicken and vegetables. He added the stock and a little too much garlic and left it to simmer while he swept out the fireplace. By the time he had a little fire roaring the soup was done and he didn’t even bother with the huge antique dining table. 

As Junhui sat crossed legged on a dusty old carpet, hot soup steaming in front of him, he felt an odd sense of satisfaction his life hadn’t given him in a long time. The fire was warm and made his cheeks feel a little too hot and the soup was surprisingly tasty. He didn’t even have to force himself to eat it. Usually he would distract himself with his phone or tv or anything to fool his brain into staying quiet while he tried to get the bare minimum into his stomach; here in the glow of an open fire he felt nourished.

It didn’t last long.

A nervous hour later led to Junhui on his knees in the dusty first floor bathroom. He retched and gasped for air and miraculously the food stayed down. It didn’t stop Junhui from feeling like a failure. He hadn’t purged in weeks. His eyes leaked and stung and his knees ached but he held it in and finally, when he stood, he counted it a small victory. As minuscule as it was he kept the food in.

It was too late to call Jeonghan again so he packed away his cooking mess and collapsed into a fitful sleep feeling like he’d lived a hundred lives in one day.

He woke with one thing on his mind. He couldn’t wait to walk across town to the little bookstore that held so many treasures and secrets within. He wondered how deep those secrets were; this was a small town and the people in it would be used to guarding their secrets. He used to carry his own a long time ago before he came out. Junhui had worked through a lot of his issues with his sexuality with Jeonghan but he still understood the shame and the guilt and the terror of living a life in hiding. He wasn’t sure if this was a place where a man loving another man would be accepted but he wouldn’t be here long enough to find out anyway.

It didn’t stop him from preening a little in the mirror. He needed no makeup, he hadn’t even packed any, but he styled his hair this morning to accentuate his features. His high cheekbones and flawless complexion were only enhanced by the panacea of a decent nights sleep.

He didn’t miss the constant hair and makeup of the modelling world and he was enjoying the rest for his skin. He did miss the attention, the constant flirting, the comfort of always being in reach of an easy one night stand. He couldn’t even remember any of his recent sexual experiences; they were all lost in a drug addled haze. Jeonghan personally taking him to the doctor for a full sexual health check was one of the scariest parts of his recovery and the most embarrassing moments of his life. It was never about the sex for him, he knew that now, it was always about the attention.

“Shit,” Junhui snapped out of his though and brushed a tear from his eye. He shook his head and dressed in a casual sleeveless grey hoodie and a pair of jeans. It was a lot warmer today than it had been yesterday and as he stepped out onto the street he wondered if the weather here was always so unpredictable. The sky was overcast, heavy with the promise of an afternoon storm, the air unsettlingly warm and moist. He walked past the cafe and past the little grocery store and across the road to the bookstore.

He knew he wasn’t ready. He knew he shouldn’t even entertain the idea. He didn’t even know if the man inside carried the same secrets, the same desires and the same dreams, but it didn’t stop Junhui’s heart from pounding nervously in his chest as he pushed the door open.

He looked behind the counter and then around a corner of bookshelves before finding Wownoo on top of a ladder. “Good morning,” Junhui said brightly and the man on the ladder startled before wobbling and dropping the thick book in his hands. 

Junhui rushed closer and reached a hand out to grab Wonwoo’s arm. He could feel the burn of heat where his fingers clutched at the man’s forearm, the skin soft beneath his, and smiled when he looked up. He didn’t miss the awkward way Wonwoo flinched back a little from his touch and he didn’t miss the pink blush that spread across his nose and up to the tips of his ears.

“I-I almost fell,” Wonwoo stuttered as he climbed down the ladder and picked up the book. “Yeah,” Junhui smiled ruefully as he took the offered book from Wonwoo’s hands. “But you didn’t fall. I caught you.” He looked down at the cover and back up at Wonwoo and managed to discern that little spark, the glimmer of warmth in the man’s cold gaze, the clue that was the key to unravelling all his secrets. It might take time but they were all just waiting to be discovered and Junhui decided in that moment he could be patient. He needed someone to be patient with him as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written something so self indulgent....
> 
> Please be gentle this story is my self-care

“Do you carry that everywhere?” Junhui smiled as they crossed the road to the cafe. “I do,” Wownoo looked down at the camera slung around his neck. “I’ll never know when something will inspire me.” His eyes caressed the sleek steel and glass like it was made of gold and diamond. His eyes flashed behind steel rimmed glasses as they looked around, perceiving, observing everything within range. Junhui felt clumsy beside him, plain and dull, unsophisticated. He felt like standing in front of a camera could never measure up to standing behind one.

Wonwoo opened the door of the cafe and looked around before they walked inside. He seemed to visibly relax when it was mostly empty and a huge smile broke across his face when he spotted the handsome barista behind the counter.

“Hi Seungcheol!” he waved and Junhui marvelled again, the incredible duality of the man beside him, the complete transformation on his face when he spotted someone familiar. “Hi Wonwoo,” Seungcheol said brightly before spotting Junhui beside him, “oh, a friend?” Why did it sound so much like a question?

“I remember you now!” The barista leaned forward onto the counter and peered at Junhui from under the thickest lashes he’d ever seen.

“Did you find what you needed at the hardware store?” “I guess,” Junhui smiled as he braved a glance at Wonwoo out of the corner of his eye. “Mingyu sent me to the bookstore.”

His smile was barely returned as the barista handed them menus from the counter. “Sit wherever you like,” he gestured around the mostly empty establishment and Junhui walked over to the window. “Here,” Wonwoo shook his head and pulled a chair out by the wall instead and Junhui followed him without question.

“So,” Wonwoo’s eyes were like steel as they bored into Junhui’s from across the table. “What do you do for work in the city?” Junhui decided his best bet was honesty. “I’m a model.” “A model what?” Wonwoo was obviously waiting for the rest of the sentence and his blank cold stare made Junhui giggle awkwardly. “A model, you know, fashion magazines and advertising....” With anyone else, in a former life, Junhui would pull out his phone and pull up his best pictures without hesitation. Something about the man across from him was intimidating and he felt inexplicably shy. 

“You make a living doing this? People taking your photo?” Wonwoo seemed disbelieving and Junhui nodded. “Show me?” Wonwoo removed the camera from around his neck and put it on the table and Junhui found a few of his recent photos. Posing with a luxury BMW, smiling in a flower crown selling his own exclusive skincare line, walking a runway in a three thousand dollar suit.

“This ones overexposed,” Wonwoo scowled at the skincare advertisement like it was a personal affront. “Your skin looks washed out.”

Junhui didn’t know how to answer that so he just looked at the menu in his hands. Panic began to build in his stomach at the descriptions of food, so much cheese and sugar and bacon. Literally _everything_ seemed to have bacon. He wanted to order a black tea with no sugar and purge it into the toilet and he hadn’t even tasted it yet. But something else pulled at him as well, something inside his chest, higher than his churning stomach.

He wanted to sit here with the stunningly gorgeous and mysterious man, he wanted to act normal and share a meal, talk and laugh and smile. He didn’t even know why he cared so much; he didn’t even know if Wonwoo cared half as much as he did.

“M-maybe you could take my picture,” Junhui stammered out and immediately wanted to haul the words back into his mouth and bury them deep inside. What a stupid thing to say. He stared down at the menu in his hands and willed them to stop shaking. 

“I’d like that,” Wonwoo answered and when Junhui looked up the man was squinting towards the window. His hand was trembling too, shaking as it hovered over the camera resting between them, until Wonwoo let it come to rest on the menu.

“So, what will you have,” Junhui eyed the menu again and decided on a simple fruit salad and tea. It seemed the safest bet for his uncertain stomach. “I’ll have the pancakes and a frappe,” Wonwoo reached for his wallet and Junhui stood up quickly. “My treat,” he said and grabbed the menus before Wonwoo could argue.

He ordered at the counter and watched while the barista, whom he now knew as Seungcheol, make Wonwoo’s tall iced frappe and decorate the top with whipped cream and flaked chocolate. “So you’re sticking around in town for a while?” he asked and his eyes watched Wonwoo fidgeting at the table. “I’m staying for three months,” Junhui replied. He paid for their meals and went back to the table where Wonwoo was playing distractedly with the camera strap.

“Oh,” he looked up, surprised when Junhui sat down. “I would have paid.” “No way,” Junhui hid his smile behind bashful lashes, “I said I’d buy you a meal, you know, for helping me.”

“For helping you, of course.....” his eyes turned wistful and then hard in the space of a second. He picked at the strapof the camera again and Junhui had to fill in the silence.

He asked him about the camera and Wonwoo lightened up again. He rambled on about the technical specifics and showed Junhui photos on his phone that he’d taken with this camera and others. Seungcheol brought their food and Junhui found himself so distracted by Wonwoo’s delightfully animated chatter that he cleared his fruit plate without a second thought.

“I found you a good book,” Wonwoo concluded as he finished his pancakes and Junhui just nodded. He was distracted by watching Wonwoo eat, every sliver of pancake perfectly sliced and slipped between enticing lips, not a drop of syrup making a mess. “We can go pick it up when we’re done here if you want.”

Junhui was about to reply when the bell over the door rang again. “Mingyu!” Wonwoo calledout and waved and the man Junhui recognised from the hardware store walked over to their table.

“Hi,” he reached out and ruffled Wonwoo’s hair making the man’s eyes sparkle behind his glasses. “The Fixer Upper!” his attention turned to Junhui sitting silently at the table. “Yes. That’s me - Junhui.” Junhui cringed at the awkward rhyming of his sentence. “I need to come and see you with a list.”

“Anytime,” Mingyu smiled again him but it was a little more vacant, just slightly frigid, warming as he turned to Wonwoo. “Call me later,” he said with warm eyes so gentle and soft and Wonwoo nodded. The way it wasn’t even a question irritated Junhui down to his core and he didn’t even know why.

He watched Mingyu lean over the counter and speak to Seungcheol before paying for his coffee. Their voices were low but their eyes revealed too much as they whispered and looked over at their table. Junhui felt uncomfortable, like he was under a microscope, and he looked away. There was nothing, not a sound, until the bell rang over the door again to announce Mingyu’s departure.

“That’s Mingyu.” Wonwoo slurped the last sip of his frappe and smiled widely at Junhui. “He’s my best friend.”

_Friend_? Jealousy swirled in Junhui’s stomach. He hoped desperately it was strictly friendship but he couldn’t tell. The way Mingyu was so casually affectionate with the man and the way he responded so warmly to it. 

And not just friend but _best friend_. Junhui couldn’t name a single person who would calm him that. He couldn’t name a single person who would call him their best friend, or even a friend, if luxury parties and designer drugs weren’t involved.

He didn’t even have any right to be jealous. He didn’t even have any reason to think Wonwoo might be attracted to him and he didn’t even know why he was so drawn to the man in the first place. Was it his quiet demeanour that so quickly morphed stoicism into childlike delight? Was it his intense and intelligent manner of explaining anything that interested him? Was it the way he constantly nibbled and worried at his bottom lip when his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied?

Was it simply the fact that this unassumingly handsome man was so far removed from his former life that he represented everything his life could be if he fought for it?

“Shall we go?” Wonwoo was already standing up and Junhui realised he didn’t know anyone else who used the word ‘shall’.

There was a long jetty with waves crashing around the base. The weather was stirring up, wind whipping Junhui’s hair around his head, and he laughed to himself when Wonwoo pulled a tattered old beret out of his pocket. It was smart, it kept his hair off his face as they headed into the wind, but a stiff breeze wasn’t going to keep Junhui from the beach. He wandered off the concrete path and across a strip of grass onto the sand. Wonwoo watched him with a detached sort of curiosity, following at a respectable distance, never moving into his space.

The flutter of a seaside daisy in the brisk breeze drew his attention. It was small and sparse, its stem and leaves a muted grey green, its petals wiry and dry. Junhui couldn’t resist plucking it; it looked barely on the edge of living. He twirled the stem in his fingertips, its petals seeming to fade right before his eyes, their white tinted with a hint of grey lighter than the sky.

Buried in the sand it had defied odds. The dry sand dunes and salty air were no place for a flower to blossom and bloom in beauty. There would be no lush petals or velvety green leaves for the future of this little daisy. Despite its humble appearance it grew with an indominable will to survive despite the odds and Junhui suddenly felt guilty for plucking it from its roots. Its life might not have been beautiful but it still had value and he’d taken that in a second without even a thought. He wondered if, at the very least, it had the gift of a soft perfume to offer as a departure. He held it to his nose and inhaled and realised that, sadly, it did not. The daisy couldn’t even leave him with an illusion of beauty through perfume.

He frowned before dropping it in the sand where it landed by his foot. When he looked up he saw Wonwoo aiming his camera at him. His face was mostly hidden as he peered through the viewfinder before dropping it down when he was discovered. “Sorry,” he said and Junhui blushed. “Don’t be. Its fine I don’t mind.” He really didn’t. His whole life was viewed through the lens of a camera; to the point where he felt on the outside looking into his own consciousness.

Wonwoo hung the camera around his neck and bent down to pick up the discarded daisy. “It’s dying,” Junhui shrugged as he watched Wonwoo contemplate the flower between his fingers. “Its not that pretty anyway.” 

“Everything can be beautiful if you look at it the right way,” Wonwoo stared vacantly out at the waves, roiling in turmoil, whipped into whitecaps by the wind. He gripped the daisy tightly in his fingers and turned back towards the road without another word forcing Junhui to struggle up the sand behind him.

“Here,” he said as they walked into the bookshop. “this will help you with the techniques and it has information on how to sand and stain and seal the different types of wood.”

Wonwoo handed Junhui the thick book and the other buckled a little under the weight of it. It made him notice Wonwoo’s arms. They were slender but muscular, wiry near the wrist and thick around the bicep, running all the way up into shoulders that were strong and broad and wide. Junhui hadn’t taken much notice before of the man’s physique, veiled behind his owlish glasses and mousy nature, and now that he’d noticed he wasn’t sure how he could forget.

He balanced the weight of the book and watched Wonwoo pick up the tattered little seaside daisy from where he’d left it on his desk. Junhui was fascinated with Wonwoo’s quiet concentration, endlessly wondering what he was thinking, always interested in what he was going to do next. To his surprise Wonwoo wrapped the daisy carefully in a tissue and placed it between the pages of a large encyclopedia of bird species sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Thank you for lunch,” Wonwoo said, his eyes faraway and vacant again. Silence hung over them, like there was more to say, but neither of them knew how to say it.

“W-will you come and check what I’ve done tomorrow?” Junhui stuttered. He felt overwhelmingly nervous, his hands wanting to shake and his voice wanting to crack, but he held it together. “Sure,” Wonwoo seemed pleased at first but his eyes gave way to a deep scowl as he reached for his phone. Junhui’s heart lurched in his chest when he realised Wonwoo was going to ask for his number, or give his out first, but the man just unlocked it and scrolled though his apps. “Can I have your email?” Wonwoo asked eventually and Junhui wanted to laugh out loud. _His email?_

“Of course,” he took the offered phone and entered his details into the mail app and handed it back. “I’ll come see you.” Wonwoo said definitively and Junhui knew it was the end of their time together. He could tell.

He clutched the oppressive tome to his chest and smiled as he left the bookstore.

There was a list hanging out from the pages and he pulled it free as he walked. Junhui smiled to himself; Wonwoo had written out for him a basic list of the things he’d need to get started on the job. The list of sandpapers and wood treatments made no sense to him but he would hand it over at the hardware store and hopefully it would make sense to the man who worked there.

Junhui couldn’t help but furrow his brow when he thought of seeing him again. The man named Mingyu, Wonwoo’s best friend, tall and handsome and personable and confident. All the things Junhui wanted to be, pretended to be, but was lacking. The man displayed all the natural charisma and calm assertion that Junhui, a top model, should but couldn’t. 

Couldn’t sober, anyway, couldn’t without the benefit of a buzz, without the sick burn of bile in his throat and his mind clouded with his daily substance of choice.

He clutched the book closer to his chest, a bibliographic shield, as he entered the hardware store through the automatic doors.

The cold white light of the store was such a stark contrast to the muted winter sun. Junhui decided to forgo the aisles and head straight to the counter to ask the man for help. “Hi,” he said softly, when he saw the tall man leaning over a thick product catalogue. “Hi,” the returning smile was warm enough but failed to reach all the way up to Mingyu’s eyes. It was the first time in his short time in the town Junhui didn’t feel entirely welcome.

“I have a list.” He handed it over to Mingyu and stared at his feet. The impenetrable gaze of the tall handsome man made him feel as small as the rock stuck between the grooves in the sole of his shoe. “I have most of this,” Mingyu said. “I’ll get it.” When Junhui looked up he was gone.

Junhui stood awkwardly by the counter as he watched Mingyu off in the store’s aisles filling a large cardboard box with cans and bottles and sheafs of sandpaper. He fidgeted with his fingers, picked at the skin a bit, making a hangnail on his thumb start to bleed. Junhui sucked at it as he looked around and a glimmer of bright green caught his eye. 

He wandered over to the plant section where a long shelf was covered with rows and rows of indoor plants, many sizes and varieties, all verdant and lush and full of life. Junhui picked up a small black pot and took a closer look at the plant inside. Its leaves were wide and deep green and glossy, a tall stem shooting up from the middle proudly displaying an unusual shaped flower, almost glowing bright white in the downlights of the store. How different it was from the poor little daisy he’d plucked on the beach and abandoned. This plant was overflowing in its beauty, pampered and coddled and loved, reciprocating that love with extravagant excess.

Junhui had never identified with anything more in his life.

He grabbed the pot and took it back to the counter where Mingyu was ringing up his purchases. “It won’t flower like that when you take it home, they give them a fertiliser to make them look like that for sale. Do you have a cat?” Mingyu eyed the plant and Junhui was confused. “No. Why?” “They’re poisonous to cats and dogs,” Mingyu scanned the barcode on the plant and added it to the box. Junhui had always wanted a cat but his lifestyle in the city definitely had no room for a pet. He wasn’t even able to be responsible for himself but he allowed himself a little giggle at the thought of telling his therapist he wanted a cat. Jeonghan would probably have a heart attack.

Here, in this softly spoken town where everything moved slow and time did too, Junhui could see himself with a cat. He could see himself with a little business, doing what he had no idea, coming home after a day of honest work to the cozy house on the beach. He’d open the door and his cat would be waiting for him in the middle of the floor, long tail waving in excitement, big eyes blinking at him for attention.

He would feed the cat and feed himself, cooking simple meals like chicken soup and rice, and kick back in front of the fire dozing with the cat on his lap. The ethereal fantasy of it all was so clear in his mind, glowing in sunset shades of orange and peach and pink, so far detached from reality.

“Ouch!” Mingyu’s exclamation at the total broke Junhui free from his melancholy musing. “That’s a lot. Do you want to put some of this back?” Junhui shook his head and pulled his credit card out. “Its not a problem,” he swiped the card and keyed in his pin number. He’d blown more money than that on a single bottle of champagne more times than he liked to think about.

He looked from the box to the huge book and Mingyu read his mind. “I can deliver it for you but it will have to be after five so I can close the shop.” Junhui shook his head. He couldn’t hide who he was forever and he wanted to get more groceries anyway. “I’ll come back with my car,” he said as he grabbed the huge book from the counter and turned to the door.

The walk back to the house gave him just enough time for the anxiety to churn in his stomach. He was embarrassed by his flashy car but he had no choice. He’d have to put up with it. He could just imagine calling Minghao and telling him on top of taking three months off work he wanted to buy a new car. He wasn’t sure his finances were that tight but they might be. He really should find out.

The sun was just starting to pitch a little lower when he walked into the house, placing the book down carefully before heading out to get his car. The gleam of its red paint had already been dulled by the sand and sea present in the air but it was still so obviously out of place. Junhui unlocked it and climbed in to drive back to the hardware store.

When he pulled up out the front Mingyu was waiting with his box. “Just throw it on the backseat,” Junhui opened the door and Mingyu carefully placed the box down on the plush leather. “Thanks.” Junhui hoped the man wasn’t going to say anything about the car and he didn’t. He turned to head towards the grocery store which was right next door before he heard Mingyu call out.

“Wait..”

Junhui cringed. He was such a fake, trying to fit in here and act like he had his shit together, like he wasn’t some kind of shallow douche who needed a flashy car to feel cool.

“Can I just say something even though it’s not really my place?” Mingyu was serious and his thick brows were furrowed into a frown. Junhui forced himself to meet the man’s eye as they stood outside the hardware store, sun beating down cold and grey, winter wind blowing just a little more gently than before.

“Wonwoo is……. Special. He’s sensitive.” Junhui bit his bottom lip. This wasn’t what he was expecting.

“He’s been hurt before Junhui, badly, and we thought he might never recover. It’s hard to be, you know, _different_ in a small town. I really thought he’d never trust anyone ever again but then after so long I saw him having lunch with you.” Junhui’s stomach flipped and churned and threatened to bring that lunch back up onto the concrete but he closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down.

“Just be honest with him and don’t lead him on. He wouldn’t be able to survive it. Seungcheol said you’re only staying for three months so please don’t give him any sort of hope.”

Tears, unexpected and unbidden, filled Junhui’s eyes. He nodded and blinked them away before turning to walk towards the grocery. He couldn’t go in like this, so he slipped into the alley down the side, leaning heavily on the wall while he controlled his breathing. He took slow deep breaths, dry retched a little, wiping the tears streaming down his cheeks with the palms of his hands which were shaking.

He didn’t throw up. He didn’t run away. He took his time and recovered his centre, bringing his breathing back to normal as he leaned on the wall by the overflowing bin. When he felt like he was functioning again he walked back around to the grocery store and walked in to buy some meat and milk and maybe even a little chocolate.

He hadn’t eaten chocolate in a year.

As he wandered the aisles he pondered Mingyu’s words. He sensed the man was protective of Wonwoo, he got that from Seungcheol too, and now he knew why. Someone had hurt the quiet man and it made Junhui feel overwhelmingly sad but also happy too.

For while Mingyu had begged him not to give Wonwoo hope the words had given Junhui hope of his own. At least now he had a chance. That hope, the hope that the stunningly gorgeous and interesting man would at least look at him in the same way, took root in his chest as he wandered the aisles of the small shop and it would only need a little encouragement to bloom.

Junhui settled down to rest, exhausted, having made only a small start on sanding the huge bed. There was a smaller and much less decrepit single bed in the other bedroom and he’d made that one up with some fresh sheets. There was something almost magical about the salty sea air and the home cooked food and even all the walking. Junhui knew he’d have no trouble dropping off to sleep. 

He was about to close his eyes when his email tone sounded and he reached out for his phone. The sender was obvious and he couldn’t help the smile when he saw who it was. He opened the email and gasped at the attachment.

Junhui, backlit and glowing under muted grey skies, the dying seaside daisy clutched so delicately in his hand. And his face, awash with quiet contemplation, eyes downcast and mouth relaxed. 

It was just him on the beach, no fancy clothes or shoes or jewellery, no luxury car or decadent perfume. It was understated and simple and Junhui wanted to cry. He’d never felt so exposed, so bare, he’d never in his life felt like someone was looking past it all and really seeing him.

The picture was stunning and Junhui wondered if this was how Wonwoo saw him. Not as a model or a product or a commodity but as a person. As a man who was torn between wanting to be seen and wanting to hide himself away from all the eyes of the world.

He put his phone down and closed his eyes and the clench in his chest was back. The tendrils of hope had already taken root and were more than just blooming. They were coiling and growing and wrapping themselves around and into every corner of Junhui's shattered heart. They were settling in and filling the gaps and budding with tiny flowers of yearning.

They were thriving.


	5. Chapter 5

Every morning he woke to the grim grey skies, every day he spent whiling away the hours with his sandpapers and oils, was a day he hated himself a little less.

He’d been in the house for three weeks, and hadn’t seen Wonwoo for two, having no excuse to go and visit him, and definitely not wanting to push his way in where he wasn’t welcome. He’d treated him to a day out, he’d paid for his lunch, he’d studied the book Wonwoo had so generously given him. Returning it wasn’t even an option; he still needed it.

The bed was hard work but was coming along nicely. Junhui had taken a delivery of a cheap bed frame from the furniture store in the next town over but had splurged on the mattress. He’d spent more on the mattress and the linens than everything else combined, including a new fridge and a small table and chairs set for the front veranda. Taking breakfast every morning with the cold wind in his face and the scent of salt in the air was healing and every day eating was a little easier.

Every day he ached a little less, in his body and in his heart. Every day each step was a little easier to take.

He called Jeonghan less and slept more. He walked everywhere, carrying his groceries back from the shop in two big calico bags, more often than not accompanied by the young man who ran the place. He seemed to have no regard for regular hours, closing up when he felt like it, wandering along the beach path chattering merrily. Junhui had begun to watch for him out in the surf if he woke up early enough, his hair whipping wildly in the wind as he chased relentlessly after each foam crested wave. 

Junhui wished something would inspire that much passion in his soul. All he had was his sanding and his cooking and his head full of thoughts of the owlish man with the sharp jaw and mesmerising dark eyes.

On this particular morning he woke early enough to take coffee on the veranda and watch Hansol out on the waves in the distance. His persistence was to be admired; it was windy and the waves were fierce this morning but no matter how many times he was dumped from his board he just resurfaced and climbed back on. 

Junhui sipped his coffee, fresh from his new coffee machine, and smiled to himself. Maybe if he’d grown up somewhere like this, where character mattered more than charisma and strength was admired over white teeth, he’d be able to do that too. He drained the coffee cup and put it down on the table and closed his eyes.

The smell of the beach was so addictive, salt and sand and sky, and he wished he would still be here in the summer to enjoy it. If it was warmer he could shed his sweatpants and hoodie and run down to the water’s edge in his underwear and throw himself away into the waves. He shook his head, opened his eyes, and chased the thought from his mind. He wouldn’t be here in the summer. He’d be back in his element by then, head to toe Gucci and Valentino, back in his clean crisp city apartment looking out onto the skyline of Seoul.

He didn’t even miss it.

He picked up his phone and decided to call Minghao. He’d asked for privacy and his manager had granted it, but he missed him. He missed having friends. At least Minghao would still be there for him clean and sober; even if he was paying him.

“Good morning,” he chirped into the phone when Minghao answered it on the eleventh ring.

_“What time do you call this? Junhui it’s still dark outside.”_

“No it isn’t,” Junhui laughed as he picked up the coffee mug and wandered back inside to make another. “The sun is definitely up. I saw it rise myself.”

_“Three weeks and you’re a completely different person,”_ Junhui enjoyed the croak in his friend’s voice and the sound of sheets ruffling as he must be rolling over in bed. He could picture it, Minghao’s luxury apartment smaller than his but no less impressive, furnished with imported leather furniture from Italy. _“Who are you and what have you done with the real Wen Junhui?”_

Junhui put the mug under the coffee machine and inserted a pod into the top. He pressed the button and watched the smooth dark liquid drip into the mug while he filled the milk frother and set it to warm.

“Maybe this is the real me. Maybe you’ve just been seeing the fake one all along.”

The words flew out of his mouth unbidden, totally spontaneous and frightening in their truth. He’d never felt more like himself than he did in the dust and wind and sun of the little seaside village. In the house which seemed to breathe life into his heart the more he cared for it. In the friendly faces he saw every day and one more solemn that he never seemed to run into.

“ _What have you been doing?”_ Minghao sounded a little more alert now and was probably sitting up. He was probably clothed in luxury Louis Vuitton pyjamas and swathed in sheets of a thousand thread count. 

“Woodwork,” Junhui smiled into the phone as he poured coffee into the two dollar mug hed picked up at the tiny grocery store. He added a shot of hazelnut syrup and poured the steaming milk in on top and watched the foamy milk turn the rich coffee into a swirl of white and brown.

_“Woodwork?”_ The surprise in Minghao’s voice was palpable. Junhui could barely slot together some IKEA flat packs.

“Yeah, this house I bought, it came filled with all this old furniture. It’s all beautiful but really worn and I thought I could restore it.” He stirred his coffee slowly before dumping the spoon in the sink and walking back outside. “You know, maybe increase the value when I sell it…”

He sank into the chair and looked out at the water. This place was so stunning and he’d grown so attached to it in such a short time. He hoped whoever he sold the house to eventually loved it as much as he did.

_“That sounds…… interesting…”_ Minghao said slowly and Junhui laughed. “You can say it. I know it’s weird but seriously I had to do this. Make some changes. You know?”

The silence hung heavy between them even over the distance. Minghao was only a few hours away by car but they were as good as worlds apart right now.

“I know.” He eventually concluded.

“Any news?” he asked and Minghao giggled through the phone in that endearing way he had. It always made Junhui smile, to hear the childlike noise coming from the chic and attractive Manager. “ _No except for every single label clamouring to be the first to book you when you come back. Coca Cola want you in China for a big budget commercial film in March. And Lee Chan contacted me. He said you promised him you’d model for his first collection if it ever got featured and they want it for next issue of Vogue.”_

Junhui sucked in a silent breath. He’d promised the younger man, a good friend of his, that he’d do him this favour. Sounds like the kid had finally landed his big break and Junhui was going to have to let him down. 

He’d got his own big break modelling for Chan when the younger was a first-year student needing someone to walk the runway for his end of year assessment and Junhui was still flubbing his way through art school vacillating between singing and dancing. The groundwork had already been laid, he remembered, thinking back to how wasted he’d gotten before walking his very first runway. He’d swaggered out there filled with liquid confidence, eyes staring out into the crowd dark and wanton and enticing, his lean body the result of his disordered eating. He was a mess really but all that mattered was his outward appearance which was perfect model aesthetic.

It had gotten him noticed by the right people though and within a year he’d dropped out of his last year of university to model full time. His trajectory had been steep and sharp and his confidence couldn’t keep up. His mind wasn’t made for the vacuous world of modelling but the perks were just too addictive.

“When does Chan have to do the photos?” he asked and Minghao sighed through the phone. _“He needs to submit them by the end of next week.”_

A thought crossed Junhui’s mind and he wondered if it was too soon. If it was too forward of him to even ask, if he could handle it in his new and fragile sobriety, if he could erase that line between two worlds.

“I might know someone who can take the photos. Ask Chan if he will come here and do it.”

_“Okay,”_ Minghao said as he shuffled around on the other end of the line. _“I’ll ask him.”_

“Thanks,” Junhui said. “I’ll let you go. Are you busy today?”

_“I’m always busy,”_ Minghao’s snide sarcasm wasn’t lost through the phone. “ _Less so now I don’t have to clean up after your insane messes every morning.”_

Junhui hung the phone up and finished his second coffee. At least now he had an excuse to go and talk to him.

He showered and dressed in a casual outfit and neglected styling his hair. He knew now why everyone who lived here had those slightly-too-long casual styles. It was because no matter where you were going, as soon as you stepped outside you were windswept. The breeze always whipped in from the ocean even if it was warm and Junhui wondered if the ocean’s white caps ever calmed.

He walked towards the town, deciding to stop in at the café for a sandwich then head to the hardware store for some more sheets of 120 grit, then finally brave the bookshop and the man who haunted all his waking thoughts. The little bell rang overhead as Junhui stepped out of the wind and into the café which was always warm and welcoming and smelled like vanilla.

“What can I get you?” the owner asked as he wiped his wet hands on a towel. Junhui leaned on the counter and perused the menu, simple coloured paper laminated sliding through his fingers, and he realised something as he looked for a sandwich.

He wasn’t afraid.

The idea of buying food, selecting something that would taste good and be good for his body, didn’t frighten him. His stomach didn’t churn with fear or revulsion, he was just hungry and wanted to eat.

“Hey,” the owner leaned a little closer and took the menu from his hands. “Hey, are you okay?”

Junhui didn’t realise he was crying until two huge tears splashed onto the smooth wooden counter.

“Yeah, sorry,…” he stammered as he drew his sleeves up into his fists and used them to wipe his cheeks. It was futile though, the ones he dried were quickly replaced by fresh tears and once he started he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know how he got to a chair or how the hot tea appeared in front of him or how the stack of napkins ended up in his hands but eventually the tears slowed and he was able to get himself together.

“I’m really sorry,” he choked out at the man sitting silently, patiently, across from him. The owner, Seungcheol he remembered, seemed so concerned but just sat and waited for Junhui to get control over his emotions before he spoke.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said softly. “Crying isn’t something to be sorry for. Just sit here for a few minutes and try to relax. Okay?” “Okay,” Junhui nodded in response and wiped his cheeks again. “I-is this for me?” he asked and Seungcheol pushed the tea closer. “Yes. Hot sweet tea always helps.”

It was strong, milky and a little too sweet, but Seungcheol was right. As Junhui sipped the hot tea he felt his nerves calm and his brain regain it’s focus. “do you want to talk?” Seungcheol seemed so genuinely concerned Junhui decided he did.

“I, um…. I have issues. With food. I was just hungry and wanted to eat and I know that’s supposed to be normal but for me it’s not. I was just happy I guess and then a little overwhelmed. Sorry.”

“Again with the apologies!” To Junhui’s surprise Seungcheol laughed loudly. “No more saying sorry. It’s unnecessary.” His eyes were so kind that Junhui didn’t feel like he needed to hide. “I actually think this needs to be celebrated. If you still want to eat I’ll make you anything you want.”

Junhui looked around. There was no one else in the café, time lingering in the dead zone between breakfast and lunch, no tourists in town looking for a brunch or takeaway coffee.

“A sandwich?” he asked and Seungcheol’s smile was so wide and bright he almost couldn’t look at it. “I’ll make you the best sandwich you’ve ever had.” As he got up from the chair Junhui wiped his cheeks again and this time they stayed dry. “I’m proud of you,” Seungcheol said gently, sincerely, as he put a hand on Junhui’s shoulder and Junhui wanted to cry again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone said that to him.

The sandwich that landed on the table in front of him was simple but perfection. Two thick slices of bread, golden on the outside, oozing with melted cheese and thin layers of salty ham. The smell was so enticing and Junhui looked up from the plate to see Seungcheol seated across from him with his own plate. “I don’t like to eat alone,” he said by way of explanation, “I thought you might not as well.”

The small talk made the food go down easily as they chatted quietly. Junhui told Seungcheol about his job as a model and his life in the city, breezing over the details he didn’t think were important. He left out the six figure pay cheques and the lavish parties, the blackouts and the crippling self consciousness of anxiety. He felt ashamed of his money, his huge apartment and his expensive lifestyle. These things mattered so little here where everyone was valued by their contributions to the community. No one here based self worth on an expensive watch or a fast car.

Junhui tried to pay him but Seungcheol chased him away with another huge gummy smile. It was so addictive Junhui found himself smiling back completely unbidden. It lasted all the way down the road to the hardware shop where the smile was quickly wiped from his face by a completely different reception.

“You,” Mingyu scowled at him from behind the counter. “Where have you been?” Junhui looked around to make sure the man’ barely concealed venom was, in fact, aimed at him. It was.

“Ah, I don’t know, home? At the house?” Junhui considered the way he easily referred to the house as home but pushed that down deep for another day.

“I told you he’s sensitive,” Mingyu continued to frown as he walked out from behind the counter and down the aisle forcing Junhui to scramble after him. “Wonwoo?” Junhui asked but he knew exactly who they were talking about. “I-I would never hurt him. Please tell me what I’ve done.”

“You took him out two weeks ago and haven’t contacted him since. He’s hiding it well but he literally spends all his day either checking his phone or looking out the window. If you don’t like him don’t lead him on. He couldn’t handle that all-“

Mingyu stopped himself from finishing the sentence but Junhui had already stopped walking.

“I would never lead someone on. Definitely not him.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, these people were so much more complicated than he ever considered. The thought of Wonwoo staring out the window like a lonely cat waiting for it’s owner made his chest hurt. “I wasn’t sure he liked me…. I wasn’t even sure he was, you know….”

“Gay?” Mingyu shook his head as he began to search for something then stopped. “Actually what are you even here for?” “More 120 grit,” Junhui said as Mingyu began rifling though shelves of sandpaper.

“Are you thick? You took him out for lunch, he assumed it was a date, he even gave you a book and took your photo. In Wonwoo world that’s as good as a marriage proposal.” Mingyu began handing sheets of paper packed in plastic to Junhui who scrambled to catch them all from Mingyu’s frantic hands. “And then he sent you the photo and you never even responded. Never replied to him, never came back to the shop… nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” Junhui began to hand packets of paper back to Mingyu. In his irritation the man had somehow handed him about twenty packs and it was way too much. “I guess I am thick. I didn’t realise…. Anything. Any of this.”

He felt small and insignificant as Mingyu began to stack the rejected papers back onto the shelf chaotically. “You can’t dance around him like this. Either you like him or you don’t. He likes you and I haven’t seen him like anyone like this in years.” Mingyu began to walk back to the counter forcing Junhui to follow him again.

“I do like him,” he said as he pulled his credit card out to pay. “I like him a lot. I haven’t stopped thinking about him actually.” He wondered why he was confessing this to basically a stranger but no one in this town seemed to know what a stranger was. You were either one of them or you weren’t and they’d accepted him wholeheartedly into this strange little tightknit community where everyone apparently knew everyone’s business.

“Okay well go and tell him.” Mingyu handed Junhui the bag of sandpaper he’d chaotically packed. “I was on my way there anyway.” He replied and left without another word.

He stood outside the hardware shop and shook his head to clear it. What just happened?

Where Junhui came from, his world of parties and drugs and mindless faceless one night stands, you didn’t just like someone. Everything was a transaction, dating someone meant being seen with them, it meant being included or excluded. It meant being gossiped about. It meant trying to understand the minutia of every nuanced action, every flirtatious glance or passed phone number, knowing who worked for who and who advertised for what. Everything was about increasing your social capital or your brand value.

Here, you either liked someone or you didn’t, everything was just so black and white. Junhui didn’t know how to operate without the camouflaging shades of grey in between. He ignored the sick feeling in his stomach at Wonwoo’s distress and headed across the road to the antique shop.

He moved quickly but Junhui still caught sight of the man looking out the window; just as Mingyu had predicted. He heaved in a huge breath and silently wished for a mirror to see how wild his hair looked and how puffy his eyes were from his crying fit in the café. It didn’t matter anyway, he knew that, he was starting to learn how to live this slow paced life where looks didn’t seem to matter so much.

“Good morning,” he called out, a little shyly into the abyss of the book filled antique store. “Hi,” Wonwoo said from behind the counter. He must have sprinted across the shop to make it there before Junhui opened the door and it made him smile at the mental image. Wonwoo was quiet but so quirky and it made Junhui hungry to know more about him. He wanted to see him in so many different situations, to see if he would be shy when he was kissed, if he would blush when someone reached for his hand.

The way he was so carefree and affectionate with Mingyu made Junhui a little jealous; he wondered how long he would have to be a constant in the man’s life for him to treat Junhui with such casual affection and warmth.

Junhui walked closer and his eyes washed over the sight of Wonwoo staring at him from behind the counter. All the warm woods and grains and mountains of paper in the shop surrounded him like a mythical forest of dry barren trees. It made Wonwoo look so luscious, like a tall cool drink of water in a parched desert, his creamy soft skin and shining dark hair so lush in the dusty world of the bookstore.

Junhui didn’t know what to say to him. He didn’t want to say sorry; the people here didn’t seem to like it. They valued actions over empty words and Junhui decided to put the last two weeks behind him. He was here now and the present was so much more important than the past.

“Do you want to come over for dinner?” he asked and the spontaneity surprised him. He hadn’t planned on inviting him over but the look on Wonwoo’s face was more than worth it.

“Do you want a cat?” he replied and Junhui’s jaw dropped a little. “What do you mean?” he leaned over the counter and there, nestled in a basket of soft looking towels, were three squirming kittens.

“The mother died the other day, she got hit by a car, and they were going to starve,” Wonwoo offered by way of explanation. “There’s a shelter in the next town over but they’re full so I’m looking after them until they can find homes for all three.” Wonwoo looked down into the basket wistfully. “I want to keep one but I don’t know what’s going to happen to the others. I can’t keep them all and I can’t choose.”

Junhui had always wanted a cat ever since he was a little boy. He couldn’t say yes though, surely his lifestyle was not suitable for a cat, could he even keep one in his apartment? Would a cat be happy in a high-rise penthouse?

“I’ll think about it,” he responded which drew a smile from Wonwoo’s lips which returned to their grim set immediately.

“Are you serious about dinner?’ he asked and Junhui nodded. “Yeah, I should have come earlier, but I had no excuse to come and see you. I wanted to though.” It sounded as stupid as he felt but he couldn’t be any more honest. “You don’t need an excuse to come and talk to me,” Wonwoo peered at him from behind thick round glasses that magnified his eyes. “Am I not reason enough?”

Junhui wanted to cry again. This place was like a different world and he could feel himself changing with every little conversation he had here. Every person here was a study in how to be strong, how to be compassionate, how to live a life free from fear.

His life in the city was defined by fear. Fear of people finding out who he really was, fear of losing it all, fear of being exposed. He was sick of it. It was crippling, being afraid of everything al the time, and he suddenly felt himself dig down deep and summon strength he didn’t even know he had.

“I need a favour. It’s actually not a favour, it kind of is but it’s also a job.” Junhui looked wistfully at the basket of kittens and Wonwoo seemed to read his mind. He bent down and picked up the smallest, a ginger kitten with white on her face, and handed the warm little bundle to Junhui who clutched her gently against his chest.

“A friend wants me to model some clothes for him, for a magazine shoot, and I’ve asked if I can do it here. So, I need to find a photographer and the photo you took of me the other day was stunning.”

“Where will the photos be printed?” Wonwoo asked sceptically and Junhui didn’t blame him. Wonwoo was an amateur, an artist, and the pages of a high-end fashion magazine weren’t exactly his style. “Vogue.”

“Vogue? You want me to take photos of you and you think Vogue is actually going to use them?” Wonwoo looked completely incredulous as he snuggled a tabby kitten close to his neck. It mewled at the touch, completely smitten with searching for warmth,and Junhui was jealous again. He’d never wanted to be a cat so much in his life.

“If it’s what I want then they’ll do it,” Junhui said quickly, betraying his power in the industry. He’d been trying to downplay his position but in this town, filled with honest people, it was getting harder to hide.

“You can be anonymous if you want. You can have them published under a pseudonym and I’ll get them to send me your cheque.”

Wonwoo nodded slowly as he considered the offer. “I-if I can’t do it here ill have to go back to the city and I’m not ready,” Junhui threw it out there as a final grasp for acquiescence and Wonwoo said yes. “Okay,” he said. “I like taking your picture anyway.”

“Thank you,” Junhui breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He didn’t have to let Chan down and he would be able to stay here and spend more time with the people he was fast growing attached to. “Why did you come in here all weird like you were in trouble?” Wonwoo closed his eyes, wrapped up in the bliss of the warm kitten mewling against his neck and Junhui felt hot all over. He’d been so immediately smitten with the man in a romantic way that he’d completely neglected the physical attraction he felt until now. Unfortunately, the delayed reaction caught him by surprise as a wash of arousal and desperate craving ebbed and flowed inside him. He’d never felt like this before about anyone. Ever. Sobriety was full of surprises.

“I came from the hardware store and Mingyu-“ “Mingyu,” Wonwoo interrupted him, “fucking Mingyu. I told him not to say anything to you. I wasn’t mad at you and I know he thought I was sad but I wasn’t. I was just….. waiting.” Wonwoo’s eyes were so honest and free from any sort of guile. There were no blurred lines here, no hidden meanings, no innuendo. Just honest feelings.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” Junhui used his thumb to massage the kitten’s head and almost melted at the soft rumbling purr he managed to elicit. “It’s okay,” Wonwoo replied with the barest hint of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth, “It’s not like I was in a rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

The sentence, so simple and plain, cut Junhui to the bone. Wonwoo wasn’t going anywhere but he was. This wasn’t his home, his town, his place in life. He didn’t belong here no matter how readily they seemed to accept him. Maybe, when Wonwoo stared down the lens as Junhui clad in couture, he would change his mind. Maybe he’d see him for what he really was; a man with a life built on superficial lies.

“I am though. I’m only here for three months.” Junhui was brave today. Brave and finally understanding the value of honesty.

“I know,” Wonwoo replied as he stared at him with eyes like onyx glinting in the soft yellow lighting. He didn’t back down though. He just stared at Junhui and waited while the kitten tried to climb out of his arms, sharp baby claws clinging to his soft looking sweater, mouth hanging loose and soft with anticipation.

“So, will you come for dinner?” Junhui pressed ahead and Wonwoo’s mouth finally broke. The smile was so beautiful, glowing and bright, his eyes closing in happiness as his nose scrunched up below the bridge of his glasses. Junhui had never in his life, in his travels abroad to the most stunning locations or in the world of show business of beautiful people, seen anything so breathtaking.

“I’m not a very good cook,” he smiled back and shrugged and Wonwoo’s smile melted down in to something more permanent, a warm kind of happiness that made his eyes sparkle. “I’ll have to bring the kittens with me.” That was fine by Junhui. “Please,” he wanted nothing more than an evening with Wonwoo and three kittens in front of the fireplace. It sounded like heaven.

He left the antique store that day without a purchase but with something much more valuable. As he crossed the road to the grocery store to try and work out what he could cook he felt the beginnings of hope bloom inside his chest. He felt warm, strong and happy, and most of all he felt honest. He’d lived this whole day as the real Junhui, authentic and true, every word and every action altruistic and wholly unselfish. It was liberating and as fresh as the wild wind that whipped his hair into a frenzy.

“What are you doing?” Jeonghan watched Junhui from the screen of his phone where he’d propped it up to take the facetime call. “Cooking,” Junhui said. “I’m making a roast chicken. I’ve never done it before but I have sage and garlic and lemon. Potatoes and sweet potato…” his voice faded as Jeonghan broke into a wide smile. “I’ve never heard you speak about food like this.” The look on his therapist’s face was half thrilled and half incredulous.

“I’m actually feeling a lot better.” Junhui sliced the potatoes as he talked. “I feel… real? Like a real person? Does that make sense?” Jeonghan nodded and Junhui continued to slice the vegetables, making the wedges small enough that they would cook reasonably quickly. He’d already coated the chicken with olive oil and garlic and herbs, layered thin slices of lemon over the skin, and put it in the oven. He had a fire roaring in the fireplace and the whole house smelled of lemon and sage and cosiness; and just a hint of the linseed oil he’d used that morning on some of the skirting boards.

“I’m pleased with your progress,” Jeonghan said, “I just don’t want you to be too hard on yourself if you crash a little. Two steps forward and one step back is a reasonable expectation.”

“I know,” Junhui tossed the potatoes into a tray and sprinkled them with salt. “I, actually, I don’t know if it was a good idea but I’ve taken a job. I feel good here, strong, and I didn’t want to let the designer down. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“You aren’t ready Junhui,” Jeonghan warned. His face turned serious and Junhui shirked a little. “Its okay, I’m not coming back yet, I’ve asked them to come here. I’m going to get a guy here to take the photos actually. The guy I met. The one I like.”

“Junhui,” Jeonghan warned him, “you aren’t ready.”

“I’m not going to do anything.”

Junhui wasn’t sure if that was a lie. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He liked Wonwoo so much but he was leaving, the other knew he was leaving, this wasn’t his place. He didn’t belong here as much as he loved the old rambling house which always felt warm and protective; almost as if it was a shield from the outside world.

This house, this town and these people, were a haven.

“I have to ask you something,” Junhui broke the long stretch of silence. “What would you think about me getting a cat?”

To his surprise Jeonghan nodded. “If you feel ready then it might help you. Pets can be very therapeutic and grounding.”

“Okay. I haven’t decided yet but I’m thinking about it. I have to go.” Junhui wanted to shower and change while the potatoes roasted. “Okay, let me know when you need to talk again. You’re making good progress Junhui.”

He stood in the shower and let the hot water wash over him. Steam filled the room and fogged up the window and the shower glass and the mirror. He washed his hair and washed his face and finally got out after letting his mind wander too long. 

The old Junhui needed expensive champagne and a handful of pills to impress someone. He needed the false confidence of a chemical buzz running through his veins. He needed makeup and brand names and endless vacuous small talk. Here he just needed to be himself. He dressed in jeans and a cozy hoodie and quickly dried his hair just in time for the ding of the timer on the oven to go off.

On his way past he suddenly remembered the plant and Mingyu asking if he had any pets. “I’m sorry,” he said to the potted spathiphyllum as he carried it out to leave it on the front porch.

The sound of an engine made him look up and his heart fluttered at the sight. Wonwoo was pulling up in an old white station wagon, glasses perched on the end of his nose, his hair whipped wild from the wind which persisted even into the sunset.

“Hi,” he waved as he waited for Wownoo to get out. He ran down the old wooden steps when he saw the man struggling with the cat carrier and a white box. “What’s in here?” He asked as he took it from Wonwoo’s hands. “Chocolate cake,” Wonwoo handed it over and gripped the cat carrier as the headed into the house. “It should be good,” he chuckled, “I didn’t make it. Seungcheol made it for me.”

As they walked into the house, arms full of cake and kittens and hope, Junhui knew. He couldn’t go into this under any more false pretences or fraud. He had to be completely honest. He had to tell him who and what he really was.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W: there is a description of a panic attack so please if this is triggering for you skip past the whole beach scene after what I like to call the ‘chocolate cake storm’
> 
> Merry Christmas to all of you and to Wonhui who blessed us with some beautiful selcas.

“the food smells delicious,” Wonwoo said as he put the cat carrier down in the corner of the living room. It was warm and welcoming, the fire blazing and popping softly, warm tones of lighting casting gentle shadows around on the walls.

“I’m just learning to cook,” Junhui replied. He was suddenly so nervous. What was he doing? How could he have this man in his home, albeit temporary, and hide any of who he really was from him. He had so much baggage to unpack but he really needed to do it. He needed to get it all out in the open.

Luckily, Wonwoo was right there with him, beside him at every step.

“I don’t have any wine,” Junhui broached the subject carefully, tentative in his first awkward steps.

“I don’t drink,” Wonwoo stared at him in the middle of the kitchen. “Ever?” Junhui was a little shocked. He’d never met a man that didn’t at least enjoy a few beers on the odd occasion. “Never. I had a bad experience when I was younger and I haven’t touched it since.”

“A bad experience?” Junhui was curious. His whole life was just a series of bad experiences and he led Wonwoo to the table and indicated for him to sit. He opened a bottle of coke and filled a glass with ice and Wonwoo nodded enthusiastically at the offer of the soft drink.

“I had a friend a long time ago. A best friend.” 

He took the glass Junhui put down in front of him and sipped at the cold drink. Junhui watched his Adams apple, large and prominent, bounce as he swallowed the drink and wiped his mouth with his hand.

Junhui sat across from him and waited for him to continue. He was learning that getting to know Wonwoo was a lesson in patience but a rewarding one. He was learning so much just sitting and watching and waiting.

“I fell in love with him. I didn’t even know it, what love was or what it meant, or why.... Why him? Why not one of the girls that used to follow me around at school. Why did it have to be him?”

Junhui sat in silence as he waited and wondered. Wondered what went wrong, how long ago was a long time ago, who was this man? It couldn’t be Mingyu, they were still best friends, but obviously this was a part of why the man was so protective of his best friend. Wonwoo had been hurt.

“He always made me feel…. More? Does that make sense? More than friendship. He was always so touchy, so….” Junhui nodded. He knew how it felt to be on the end of someone’s intense affection to the exclusion of all sense and sensibility. He knew people like that, people too friendly for their own good, he knew how casual affection could be misconstrued.

Especially by Wonwoo, so prone to accepting things on face value, unable to read between the lines. This man would be easily led on by someone without them even having to try. He didn’t know if he could ever put Wonwoo through that and he knew in that moment that honesty was going to be imperative if this friendship was going to last.

“One night we got drunk and I confessed. I don’t know what I was thinking, I tried to kiss him, he was horrified. He ran from me you know..... Stumbling backwards, shaking, terrified.” Wonwoo’s eyes glazed over as he dragged up the painful memory. “I haven’t touched alcohol since. I never ever want to lose control of myself like that. Maybe if I hadn’t drunk that night, we’d still be friends.”

“Where is he now?” Junhui needed to know. He had to know this person was out of the way. He had to know if Wonwoo had space to heal and recover and if he could even consider being in a space to try again with someone else.

“We never spoke again, he moved away, Mingyu told me he has a wife and a baby now. He he lives a couple of towns over near the city.”

The oven timer dinged and broke them out of the tense but prospective moment they were sharing. Junhui was amazed at how, despite his background and past trauma, Wonwoo so easily let him in. he felt like he knew him just a little better. He got up to take the chicken out of the oven and the smile on Wonwoo’s face was incredible as he watched Junhui juggle the hot trays. 

“It really smells great,” he said as he stood up to watch Junhui pull the chicken apart with a pair of tongs. He piled a plate high for Wonwoo, juicy slices of chicken and chunks of potato, a whole sweet potato wrapped in foil sitting in pride of place. Junhui piled his own plate with significantly less food and Wonwoo narrowed his eyes as they returned to the small table in the corner of the kitchen.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, eyes boring into Junhui’s soul from behind the sparkling shield of his glasses. “I have issues,” Junhui said as he stared at his plate. “With food.” He paused and took a deep breath as the plate of food sat unmoving in front of him. “And a lot of other things.”

“Is that why you came here?” Wonwoo asked and Junhui nodded. “It was make a change or die, honestly, I couldn’t go on living the way I was. Modelling is a hard world to survive and I’m still not sure I’m cut out for it.”

He sighed as he stared at the food. Chicken swam in a juicy puddle of lemon and butter and sage. The smell was amazing and the crunch on the outside of the potatoes sounded so enticing when he stabbed into them with his fork.

“Just try one mouthful at a time,” Wonwoo’s voice was softer than usual, his eyes warm when Junhui looked up. He smiled in that clandestine way he seemed to favour, just the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He lifted his fork to his own mouth and stuffed it full of chicken and his smile grew wider. “It’s really great,” he said around the strings of chicken, “you’re a great cook.”

_Just one mouthful at a time. I can handle that. One mouthful of food, one step forward, one more sober and lonely night._

Junhui lifted the fork to his mouth, chicken juicy and so enticing, and found himself chewing it slowly. His mind wanted to wander, to disassociate, but he forced himself back into the moment. He concentrated on the taste of the food, the feeling of the table beneath his hands, the soft encouragement in Wonwoo’s eyes. He focused and finished the mouthful and prepared for another. It felt somewhat normal and he realised this was his second meal of the day without the overwhelming urge to purge.

He revelled in the small victory and in the calming presence of the man opposite him. Wonwoo was the ocean, deep and cold until you found your feet, warmer the longer you let it envelope you. His surface could be calm or turbulent but underneath the waves there was so much to discover.

Junhui finished the whole plate.

“This looks amazing,” Wonwoo’s voice was so deep, thick and heavy in his appraisal of the sanded back timber of the antique bed. “You’re doing a great job, very careful, it will take the stain so well. Did you choose a colour?”

Junhui nodded. He wasn’t sure what the new owners of the house would want but he was in love with a deep rose mahogany stain he’d picked out. He could imagine the bedroom, voile curtains blowing at the bay windows, the huge mahogany coloured bed dressed in white and coffee and shades of beautiful blue. He could picture mornings here scented with hazelnut latte taken in bed and nights with the windows open to welcome the summer storms. He could see a life here, wrapped in the scent of the ocean, he just wasn’t sure if it was his life he could see.

He held the sample slat of timber out for Wonwoo to look at and when he took it their fingertips brushed. It was so brief, barely a whisper of flesh against warm flesh, nothing more than a caress of summer breeze across skin. It electrified Junhui, excited every nerve in his body, making his head spin and his knees almost buckle with the sensation. Sobriety was terrifying in its clarity; he’d never ever felt like this in his life.

He wanted more, craved it with a ferocity deep down inside, a hunger that surprised even himself. He’d never craved for anything besides alcohol and something else mind altering; anything to take the edge off. Here there was no edge. Everything here was soft, curves and waves and swirls, sharp points and harsh lines eroded by the never-ending background of wind and waves.

Even the people were smoother, softer in their nature, gentler in their humanity. It made Junhui wonder if he could be polished smooth like a stone if he planted himself here and let the waves and wind do their work on him.

The slight brush of fingers just wasn’t enough. He wanted to be closer to him but he wasn’t brave enough. There was no liquid courage here; no mind altering mdma or opioids to fuel his deception. Just him. Plain old Wen Junhui who used to be an aspiring singer and a wonderful dancer and was now just a pretty face.

“You should test it out,” Wonwoo held his gaze just long enough to make the room seem warmer. He moved back, maybe sensing Junhui’s instinct to press forward, and put the sample slat down on the ageing bedside cupboard. “Do these first. The sanding isn’t so intricate so if you don’t like it, you’ll just have to redo a flat surface.” Junhui craved him again, desperately wanting to move closer, suddenly aware of why he should move away. 

Wonwoo had been hurt before. He couldn’t hurt him all over again. He needed to be sure and he needed to feel safe before he could seek out the warmth and contact he so badly craved. The way he so quickly backed away told Junhui everything he needed to know. Wonwoo wasn’t ready and he probably wasn’t either.

The fire crackled in the fireplace and the air in the room was heady with the scent of the chocolate cake Wonwoo had brought. It sat between them on the floor, a shared plate holding a big chunk of cake covered in glossy ganache, crumbs scattered across the white china like stars in the sky. It seemed to loom like the elephant in the room; no one knowing what to do with it.

Junhui’s lap was full of kitten and the touch was filling him with comfort. He was warm, he was safe and happy, and he wanted to try the sweet moist cake. “She’s so cute,” he murmured at the little ginger girl who’d taken his whole heart and run away with it in minutes. Junhui desperately wanted to keep her. He laughed out loud as she rolled from his lap and onto the rug as her little paw swiped with tiny claws towards the laces of Wonwoo’s shoes.

“I’ll take her,” he said suddenly, impulsively. He meant it though. He’d manage with her in his apartment and it would give him something to live for; someone to wake up for each day and a reason to get out of bed and exist in the void of space and time he seemed to be wading through every step of his sobriety.

“Really?” Wonwoo’s face lit up bright enough to put the crackling fire to shame. “Yeah, why not,” Junhui reached out to draw her back into his lap. “I’m sure city living will be fine for her.” The shadow that clouded Wonwoo’s face seemed to edge in from the corners of the room to change the whole mood of the evening and Junhui didn’t miss the way he seemed to shrink in on himself again.

“Its getting late, I should go,” he got up suddenly and took the kitten from Junhui’s hands and returned her to the cat carrier along with her sisters mewling for attention. “They need milk and I didn’t bring their bottles,” he kicked the plate accidentally in his haste and chocolate cake scattered across the rug. 

“Sorry,” Wonwoo said, face burning pink with embarrassment, his haste never waning. He gathered the cat carrier and closed it and was headed for the door before Junhui could even stop him. “Wait,” he gasped as he clambered from the floor to follow the man to the front door. “They’ll be here to do the photos on the weekend.” “Just email me with the times, okay?” Wonwoo couldn’t look at him as he rushed through the door and out of the house.

Junhui stood stunned in the middle of the entry way. The door was still open, a great yawning chasm left empty by Wonwoo’s sudden departure, and he knew exactly what he’d done wrong. But was it wrong? He couldn’t pretend he was going to stay here and he needed to be honest and open about it. This wasn’t his home and this wasn’t his life and he was going to have to go back.

He had to go back. The city was all he knew.

He closed the door slowly when the taillights of Wonwoo’s station wagon rounded the corner at the end of the winding beach road. They disappeared into the darkness and Junhui closed the door to the world and leaned against the wall. His body felt heavy, limbs leaden and confused, his chest clenching with a strange sense of emptiness. Just five minutes ago he’d been so warm and now the whole house was cold and empty, and he was alone. 

He walked back into the living room and began to clean up the scattered crumbs of the chocolate cake. They were the only evidence of the cyclone which just whipped through the house and Junhui’s emotions which were still boiling in a frenzy. He’d give anything for a drink right now, to just down endless burning swallows of vodka or even something harsher, straight scotch or whiskey to burn this feeling out of his chest.

He walked back and forth, pacing, restless energy filling his whole body with itchy tingles that made him want to scream. He picked up the cake mess and tossed the whole plate into the sink and walked back and forth to the front door as he tried to clear his head. In the end he sank to the floor again, lacing a pair of old sneakers to his feet, a perfunctory stretch barely enough. He left his front door wide open, fearless, there was nothing inside he wanted to protect as he ran from the house and along the wet sand.

His feet pounded, crunching the hard wet sand along the high tide mark, the cold night air whipping his hair into a frenzy. His limbs began to burn rather than itch, the restless feeling slowly leaving him, his mind beginning to clear a little from the damp salty air. He ran as far along the beach as he could before his chest burned and his legs screamed at him to stop. He dropped into the sand and caught his breath; he’d run so far the porch light was barely visible in the distance at the other end of the beach.

The empty feeling in his chest had been replaced by a pain, sharp and stinging and so terrible he thought he might be having a heart attack. He clutched at his shirt, too thin for the cold night, and tried to ground himself the way Jeonghan had taught him.

_It’s a panic attack. It’s not a heart attack. You’re going to be fine._

Something to taste… _the remnants of dinner, lemon still tangy on his lips. He’d felt so proud of himself, eating a full meal, even prepared to attempt the chocolate cake before it was scattered along with his hopes._

Something to smell…. _The salt in the air, tangy and sharp, a little pungent at this low tide. Cleansing and refreshing like a cold shower after a long day spend warming in the sun on the sand._

Something to touch… _the crunch of the sand. Grinding beneath him, squeaking and sticking with salt water to every single part of his body that came into contact with the beach below him. Tiny grains on his shoes and his jeans and his fingertips that would sneak into every single part of his life. He’d find them in his hair and in his bed and everywhere he wandered as they scattered like the crumbs of chocolate cake rent wild by the incoming storm._

Something to hear… _the thundering of the waves which drowned out the thundering in his ears. The sound of his own heart pounding in fear was nothing compared to the constant beat danced by the waves as they met the shore._

Something to see… _the stars in the sky, twinkling like a million windows in a thousand skyscrapers, but brighter than anything he’d ever seen in the city. Almost as bright as the glitter in Wonwoo’s eyes when he forgot himself and let his walls down. Almost as beautiful as the shine in the darkness held secret by the glasses and the stoic demeanour. Almost as glittering as the barest well of tears as Wonwoo gathered his cats and ran from his house to avoid dealing with a hurt he didn’t have the strength for. Almost as sharp as the gaze Junhui fixed on him as he let him drive away to safety._

Almost….

Junhui never cried. It wasn’t his thing. No matter how low he felt he always tended to panic, to yell, to gasp for air and slam his fists into walls and mattresses and even a mirror once. But tonight he needed catharsis of the most vulnerable kind. He sat on the sandy shore and cried for what felt like hours, his tears dried to salt by the strong wind, his cries drowned by the crash and wash of the waves. He cried and cried until his eyes hurt and his chest hurt but with a different kind of hurt than before. No longer empty, now he felt full to bursting, his heart overflowing with emotions he tried to bury. Burying them was no good for him, he knew that, but only now did he feel ready to let them out.

He let them out, let them escape, and then left them behind scattered on the beach. His legs were sore as he began to drag them across the sand back towards the house but it was a different kind of sore. No longer heavy or empty or stiff; his body felt warm and alive and more vital than it had in years.

One day at a time…. One mouthful at a time…. One step at a time.

One foot in front of the other.

Junhui walked slowly thought the thick darkness along the beach and back to the house.

The day of reckoning was finally here. Junhui hoped it all went to plan. He was terrified, understandably, trying to be patient with his mind which wanted to act up and his body which felt leaden and slow again. He was excited to see Minghao, he was excited to see Chan, most of all he was excited to see Wonwoo who’d been so obviously vacant in his life since the night of their dinner. He was coming today to take the photos though. He’d reassured Junhui via a few stilted emails that he was definitely going to do the job.

Preparing himself was different here. He’d showered and exfoliated, moisturising his body with his favorited lotion which he’d eschewed since he’d been at the beach house. It had seemed so unnecessary but today it wasn’t. he hadn’t seen the clothing and he didn’t know how revealing it would be but no one had given him any specific requirements to shave his body or style his hair so he left himself mostly natural.

He cleansed and cleansed again, applied toner then essence then eye cream, finishing with a sticky green tea seed serum and a ceramide moisturiser. He brushed his hair and marvelled at how close to his nape the ends were, it was the longest he’d had it in years. He dressed in a comfortable sweatpants ensemble that would be easy to change in and out of and headed out onto the weathered porch to wait for the ghosts of his past life to walk back into it.

When the obviously rented SUV pulled up at the house Junhui was surprised to see Minghao and Chan had travelled together. “Junnie!” Chan cried out, overjoyed at seeing his much-missed hyung, and ran into Junhui’s arms. “You look amazing, wow, this clean air is really good for you.” Chan patted Junhui’s cheeks and smiled softly as he searched his friend’s eyes for the truth. “Oh,” he said softly, ever perceptive. “You like it here, don’t you?” Chan was one of the most intelligent people Junhui knew. More than brains, the man had an impeccable emotional intelligence, wise far beyond his young years. Junhui was happy to see him and more than happy the kid had finally caught his big big break.

“This is Seungkwan,” he waved over to indicate the stranger who was climbing from the car with a iced latte in his hand. “A pleasure,” he said politely and bowed as he extended his empty hand and Junhui shook it carefully. “He’s my hair and makeup today, he’s a genius, I just had to bring him.” Chan’s explanation was quickly dismissed by Minghao who was struggling to pull a huge suitcase from the car. “I didn’t come along to be your assistant,” he sneered through his teeth but it was tinted with affection towards the youngest man standing in the front yard.

“Hao,” Junhui said softly as he opened his arms and, to his surprise, his Manager didn’t resist. The way Minghao leaned into the hug with his whole body spoke more than any words could. He was glad to see him and Junhui was happy as well. He hadn’t realised how much he missed his people no matter how problematic his past life was.

“Where is the photographer?” Chan asked as they headed into the house. It was early, the sun was barely up, but they’d have to work fast to catch the light they wanted. “He’ll be here at 7am. I promise,” Junhui settled into a chair and let the stranger begin working on his face. The man knew what he was doing, Junhui could tell, despite the lack of a mirror. Seungkwan flitted around him like an attentive butterfly seeking nectar from a beautiful flower.

“Wow,” Junhui breathed when a large hand mirror was finally placed in front of his face. His eyes were barely lined with a deep brown, his lashes enhanced, his brows filled and shaped beautifully. He almost looked barefaced unless you inspected the details, the soft glow of golden highlighter making his cheekbones stand out, the touch of blush across his impeccably contoured nose. Most of all Junhui liked the way the makeup artist had let his natural beauty spots on his face show through. They dotted his upper lip and his cheek and he smiled as he turned this way and that to inspect them. This was him but better.

When he found Chan in his makeshift living room steaming garments he inhaled in surprise. The clothes were perfect. A range of cream and brown shorts were hanging beside shirts of lace and white ruffles and brown leather straps. It was perfect for the beach, invoking feelings of driftwood and oak and sea spray in the air. Chan was talented but this was beyond anything Junhui had imagined from the young designer.

“We’ll start with this,” he handed Junhui a pair of knee length beige shorts and a ruffled shirt with a very low v neck. “And this..” the body harness was all brown leather and shiny metal claps and smelled incredible. “Who made these?” Junhui fingered the soft leather with a new appreciation for handicrafts he’d only just developed in the old house by the beach. “I had to find a specialist. Aren’t they beautiful.” Chan’s eyes shone with creativity and anticipation and Junhui took them into the bedroom to change.

When he emerged he found a very excited Chan talking to a very uncomfortable looking Wonwoo. Chan had the man crowded in a corner, all waving hands and grinning features, as Wonwoo clutched his camera like it was a floatation device and he’d forgotten how to swim. “Chan, you’re scaring him!” Junhui reached around to grab Wonwoo by the arm and pull him to safety. Protective instinct flared inside Junhui as he watched relief flood Wonwoo’s handsome features. “Where are the kittens?” he asked in a whisper and Wonwoo smiled just a little. “I left them with Mingyu at the hardware store.”

They headed down to the beach, Wonwoo with his camera, Chan with a huge reflector which Wonwoo eyed suspiciously, Minghao with a bag filled with water bottles and other random stuff. Seungkwan had a brush and a bag of makeup for touch ups and Junhui just had himself. IN the whirlwind of the morning he hadn’t had time to be nervous but now it was time his stomach churned with anxiety.

There was something abut the way Wonwoo stared at him down the barrel of the camera that settled him. It wasn’t anything in his voice or his actions, or even his mannerisms, but a look in his eye that said it all. It told Junhui all the things the drugs used to say.

You’re beautiful.

_You’re handsome._

_I see you._

_I understand you._

_You’re good enough._

_You’re strong enough._

_You’re enough._

It made his limbs pull into positions he usually wouldn’t think of. It made his face soften and his features contort into the Junhui he was to the rest of the world; stunning, bone structure perfect and body lean and gorgeous. It made the light blessed to dance across his face in the early morning stillness where the waves were unusually still and the wind had stopped whipping their daily lives into a frenzy. 

He could see him out in the distance, catching wave after wave, Wonwoo careful to shift so he didn’t inadvertently capture Hansol in the frame. But he was out there doing what he loved and Junhui was on the sand doing what he loved. He turned and posed, Chan moved the reflector around to catch the most beautiful shards of sunlight that tried to escape, and Wonwoo just kept looking at him. Always staring, always attentive, his eyes always shouting louder than his words ever did.

The morning flew by, with so many outfit changes, and Chan’s increasing excitement. By the time the sun was halfway up the sky they were done. Chan had loved the tiny previews on the screen of Wonwoo’s camera and Minghao was desperate to get back into the car and out of the wind. Junhui wasn’t sure why. His manager’s hair was longer than ever and floated around his face in a soft style reminiscent of the looks he saw every day on the people who lived in the sleepy seaside village. If he wasn’t dressed head to toe in leather and Gucci Minghao would fit in quite well here. Seungkwan was another story, complaining loudly to Chan about everything, from the way the wind gently tousled Junhui’s hair to the sand that stuck to everything. In the middle of all the chaos Wonwoo stood silent, as unmoving as a rock with the sea swirling around it, stoic and steady and completely still.

They’d barely spoken but Junhui’s heart was warmed by the way Wonwoo looked at him. It was like the camera was shield enough that he didn’t need his walls, his protective barriers, it was like he was seeing Junhui with fresh eyes. “I can’t wait to see the pictures,” Junhui said as he grew braver, walking over to the photographer while the others packed away the equipment.

“I’ll make sure you get a preview tonight,” Wonwoo smiled again, that barest upturn of lips and Junhui smiled back. A small remedy between them to smooth over the other night.

“I’d kill for a real coffee,” Seungkwan sulked and Junhui knew just where to take them. “Let’s go to the café,” he suggested, and his eyes went to Wonwoo but the man was clearly spent. “I need to open the shop,” he said, Junhui knew he didn’t really, but he let him use the excuse anyway. He stood off to the side while Wonwoo exchanged details with Chan and waved quickly to everyone else but he chased him down before the man could climb into his old station wagon. “Thank you. For today, for everything actually,” Junhui said and Wonwoo nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said and they bid each other a silent goodbye.

“He’s odd,” Minghao said and sniffed before rubbing at his pink nose. The air was colder now than it was at dawn and Junhui had a feeling a winter storm was going to roll in. He was starting to learn now how to read the sky and taste the air and feel the weather changing. “He’s not odd,” Junhui said quickly, “he’s just shy and you guys are a lot. Like, _a lot_ …” “Yeah we are!” Chan grinned and threw an arm around Junhui’s shoulder, “now let’s get that coffee!”

They walked in to the familiar chime of the door and the familiar glow of the baristas smile. “Hi Seungcheol!” Junhui waved brightly at the man behind the counter feeling a little smug; he almost felt like he actually belonged here as he introduced his friends.

Junhui chose a round table in the back corner and they spoke merrily as they waited. For a while Junhui felt like he had his old life back, the good parts, the closeness and friendship and stimulating creativity of his work. He felt fresh and renewed and even invigorated at the success of the day.

“Shut up, you’re glowing,” Chan said loudly to Junhui smiling to himself. “What do you mean glowing?” he blushed but he knew. The warmth of Wonwoo’s eyes on his body today would keep him cozy and comfortable for the next few nights at least. "You like it here." Chan leaned back in his chair, satisfied in his perception. “I do like it here,” he conceded as Seungcheol carried a tray of coffee towards them, “I feel like a new person.”

“I can see why,” Chan’s eyes followed Seungcheol hotly as the older man walked back behind the counter and Junhui scowled. He didn’t like Seungcheol in that way but he felt strangely possessive over the town and the people here. They weren’t for Chan to ogle or Minghao to sneer at. He almost felt like they were his people, the same way he thought of the small crew of men with him, but the feeling was different. He’d been vulnerable here in a way he’d never been in front of Chan or even Minghao.

Talk turned to the typical, the expected, the mundane. Who was walking for Dior, who just got a deal with Valentino, who got the latest CF for L’Oreal. Who passed out last week behind the latest nightclub, who was snapped by the media coming out of a bathroom glazed and dazed, who woke up in another models bed despite having a boyfriend?

Junhui sighed. Not that long ago the answer to all those questions would have been Wen Junhui. Not any more, he shook his head and rubbed at his nose, he was determined to stay clean.

Finally, with the sun on its downward dive to the horizon, Junhui was waving goodbye. He’d enjoyed having them around and he’d loved working but he was relieved to see the white SUV back out of the driveway and head back towards the city. He was exhausted, remembering how tiring it was to put up a front, to pretend and mask and hide. Here, amongst the quiet people and the wild wind he felt free to be himself. As he closed the door and collapsed into a dilapidated but cushy armchair he had a sudden urge to dance again. 

The thought wasn’t easily dismissed. He hadn’t danced for years but his body was beginning to feel strong again. He felt more confident in it, moving in front of Wonwoo’s camera, in front of Wonwoo’s eyes which gave away everything that his words would never. He slid onto the floor, totally swept away on the whim, and began to stretch. He pulled muscles into positions they hadn’t felt for years and the burn felt so good; like the way he’d felt thundering along the beach as he ran.

He stretched and searched up a few yoga poses he could try out on the beach in the morning. His stomach rumbled and, realising he hadn’t eaten all day, headed into the kitchen. There was leftover chicken packed into a container and Wonwoo’s words played over in his mind as he chewed and swallowed.   


_Just one mouthful at a time, one day at a time, one heartbeat at a time._   


He ate and when he was done the sun had finally dipped down low enough for him to turn all the lights on and light the fireplace.

A sudden knock at the door had his heart leaping in his chest. Wownoo had promised him a preview of the photoshoot but he never expected the man to actually come visit him. Junhui expected nothing more than a stilted email.

He moved quickly though the house, eager to see Wonwoo, his cheeks flushing pink with anticipation. He threw the door open a little too easily but instead of midnight eyes glittering like sand he met brown eyes round and full of roguish delight.

“Joshua?” Junhui stammered, shaken. Joshua was his friend, but a friend with certain benefits, most of which favoured Joshua more than Junhui. “I saw Chan yesterday and when I mentioned I hadn’t seen you he gave me your address here.”

Fucking Chan. He hadn’t even said anything. Junhui wanted to be furious but to be honest Chan probably didn’t see it as such a big deal.

“So can I come in or what?” the tall foreigner, strikingly good looking with his elfin features and freshly platinum hair, edged his way through the door. He had a backpack over one arm and the other wrapped around a bottle of 2010 Dom Pérignon and Junhui was too slow to stop him.

“Glasses?” Joshua had walked straight into the kitchen and Junhui shook his head. He handed Joshua one of his new coffee mugs and watched him fill it with his three hundred dollar bottle of champagne and swing right into Junhui’s personal space. Junhui knew this was going to test all of his new found strength.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the end notes ♥️

  
  


Morning broke slow and easy over the sparkling water. The sun cracked the surface of the horizon, rising cold and white and small, the rays of it’s light just a promise of what would come as it rose. It was Wonwoo’s favourite part of the day; that fine line between night and day, the perfection of dawn and an unspoilt day.

He sipped coffee as he sat on the beach across the road from his antique store and watched the sky throw pink and yellow and gold across the tiny little town. He’d left the little kittens sleeping in their crate and taken his coffee down the stairs from his apartment over the store to enjoy the world still empty and still and silent. A world where, for one brief moment, it wasn’t too loud or too bright or too busy. A world where he felt somewhat normal.

Wonwoo just couldn’t bend. The winds of the world left him feeling stiff and stoic, inflexible, always wishing the world would just mould around him instead. He didn’t understand most of the things normal people took for granted and struggled with articulating even the most simple concepts of human nature. His mind was a minefield of questions; _what’s happening here, am I doing it wrong, is this the way it’s supposed to be?_ All questions he was scared to ask because he usually didn’t like the answer.

He drained the mug in his hands just as the sun fully broke free; round and perfect and constant. Never wavering in its appearance or schedule; comforting and predictable. Every morning the sun rose and every evening it set and everything was right.

He climbed the stairs and opened the door to his apartment and flicked some lights on. The kittens began to mewl when the realised he was awake and moving around and he boiled some water to make up their milk before he let them out of the crate. They mewled and meowed and climbed over each other, mouthing at his hands and fingers, pushing each other out of the way to try and get to their breakfast. 

Wonwoo shifted them around in the towel spread over his lap and handled the three little bottles easily. He was getting good at this and animals were never a problem. They were predictable like the sun and gave out affection or withheld it with no need to read between the lines. When he talked they always listened no matter how long he wanted to go on and on about a new camera lens or a rare book he’d sourced.

Once they’d suckled and used the litter box he crated them again for a nap. He cleaned up the towel and the bottles straight away, always straight away, and packed the things away for next time. He walked over to his desk and flicked his desktop computer on and it flooded into life instantly. He’d stayed up later than he wanted to the night before but once he started looking at them he just couldn’t stop. 

They were addictive, flawless and special, Wonwoo had looked at a lot of photos in his life but never anything like this. He’d never taken anything like this and he’d never had a subject so beautiful, so captivating, so all consuming.

Once, a few years ago, Wonwoo had tried astrophotography. He purchased an expensive telescope and the right attachment for his camera and spent every single night of a whole month photographing the moon. The glow of it was incredible, her light waxing and waning, the colours cycling through golden orange to bright blue white. He loved staring down the lens of the camera and capturing every single phase she showed him, her face shrinking and growing over the span of a month.

But her face was always the same, every night each crater and crevice she showed him was identical to the night before; beautiful but predictable and never changing. This was the way Wonwoo liked things. Predictable, foreseeable, expected. Everything as it should be.

He thought taking Junhui’s photo would be the same. He thought Junhui would be beautiful like the moon, waxing and waning, his face stunning but predictable. He was wrong, so wrong, Junhui was just as beautiful as the moon. But his face changed with every single frame. Each photo was more beautiful than the last, Junhui’s face expressive and changing with every singe angle, his body turning and contorting into interesting shapes that showed off the clothing he was wearing.

He should have guessed this would be the way but Wonwoo was never good at guessing. He always just wanted to be told what was happening without room for uncertainty. This was different though. He flicked from photo to photo hungry for the unknown, marvelling at how each photo was more stunning than the last, filled with a curiosity for the lines of Junhui’s body and the light reflected off the angles of his face.

He’d never craved like this for anything before.

Wonwoo wasn’t alone. He had Mingyu, lovely patient Mingyu who’d always been by his side. Mingyu was his best friend. He knew Wonwoo better than anyone, when to give him space, when to push him outside his own boundaries. He’d been there to pick him up when Wonwoo was at his lowest and he’d been there for Wonwoo’s most exhilarating highs. 

He also had Seungcheol, constant safe Seungcheol, the man who’d supported him like an older brother in his most ambitious ventures. The man who’d showed him how to open a shop, how to run a business, how to budget and pay taxes and inventory stock and smile at customers in the right way. Now he had Hansol as well, younger and warmer, a man who’s gentle energy and calm demeanour soothed Wonwoo’s soul.

His life was perfect. He could spend his days lost in a world of old furniture and dusty books and his nights were filled with video games and movies and, of course, more books. He made enough money, he had enough friends, he enjoyed his life. He never wanted more.

Until now.

Want filled his chest and spread out to his stomach as he stared at the man on the screen. It was like staring at the moon, a flawless celestial being, but even better. Junhui’s beauty was far from static, flowing like the waves in the background, changing with every shutter click an every angled light. Excitement danced in his eyes, gold poured from his skin, the blessings of his past life mapped out in beauty spots across his face. 

Wonwoo reached out to trace his fingers across the computer screen when he lingered over one particularly stunning headshot. He was supposed to be featuring the clothes but he’d indulged himself just a little in this moment and zoomed in on Junhui’s face. He couldn’t send that one in as a submission; he’d save it for himself. This might be as close as he could ever get to tracing fingertips across Junhui’s perfect skin and it might be his only chance.

Questions were constantly at the forefront of his mind. When Junhui invited him out for coffee he desperately wanted to ask if it was a date. He wanted to know, did Junhui like him? Or was he just being nice. Was he genuinely wanting to treat him in exchange for the help with the furniture? Or did he want to spend more time with Wonwoo and was just using it as an excuse. He just couldn’t understand and he was trying desperately to read all the signals but he was probably getting them wrong.

He knew he was getting them wrong when Junhui said he was going back to the city. That made it very clear; you couldn’t get more black and white than that. Junhui, despite all his problems, had an amazing life in the city. The kind Wonwoo could only dream of, the kind that had no place for an awkwardly eccentric man who loved books, the kind of life that would make it easy for him to forget Wonwoo existed. He knew there was no way Junhui was going to come back if he sold the house as he kept saying, why would he? What was here for him?

Wonwoo hated to drive to the city but he would for Junhui, if he asked him to or specifically invited him. He’d drive the three hours and navigate the insane traffic if it was for Junhui. That was wishful thinking too. Junhui wasn’t going to invite him to the city to stand around all awkward and self-conscious at important fashion industry events and parities and certainly not to embarrass himself in front of Junhui’s friends. 

When he’d arrived at the house the day before he’d been immediately accosted by the young and handsome fashion designer who was everything Wonwoo imagined, pictured, and dreaded. The people from Junhui’s world were confident, creative and interesting, and bold. They spoke to strangers with open expressions and unguarded mouths easily making words spill out into the room. What use would Wonwoo be around people like that?

He focused and began to work, selecting images that he thought best suited the clothing and the mood, and did a little light retouching. He barely edited the photos, wanting the natural beauty of the model and the surroundings to shine, and selected the best and emailed them to the designer for submission. He sent a few to Junhui’s email as well and sat back in the chair and ran hands through his hair.

Wonwoo had no excuse to see him, none at all, he racked his brain for any excuse to turn up on his doorstep. There was nothing, no new book or furniture advice, no reason for him to just go to the house and knock on the door.

_“Hi, good morning Junhui, sorry for showing up here without any notice or reason. I just really like you and want to be around you and I need to know do you like me too? Do you like me in a romantic way or just a friend way because understanding the feelings and intentions of others is difficult for me. Was our dinner a date or just two friends hanging out? Was our lunch at the café something more than just a thankyou?”_

_“I don’t care that you have a difficult past. I do too. Wouldn’t it be nice to get to know each other and heal each other and maybe if you could not leave and go back to the city that would be nice too? Maybe if we could break down some of these walls between us you might find something here worth staying for?”_

Wonwoo shook his head. All the words sounded okay in his brain but he knew if he tried to say any of them it would come out a jumbled mess and it just wouldn’t work. The sun was well and truly rising now, almost to the midway point of the sky, he’d been lost in his editing a little longer than he thought. He filled up the three bottles again and fed the kittens another meal before showering and dressing and leaving the apartment. He wasn’t opening the shop today; there were no tourists around anyway. He just dressed and shoved his hands into his pockets and headed down the stairs.

“Morning sunshine,” Seungcheol said as he watched Wonwoo walk in the door. “Coffee?’ “Please,” Wonwoo said as he drew a stool up to sit right at the counter where he watched Seungcheol make his favourite brew just the way he liked it. “How did the shoot go?” Seungcheol prodded gently and Wonwoo tried to hide his smile but he just couldn’t. “It was great. I think I did really well. The photos look amazing and I’ve sent fifty to the designer for submission.” “That’s great,” Seungcheol said softly as he pushed the hot coffee over to Wonwoo. He held it in both hands, letting the warmth of the mug seem into his fingers, his hands were always cold.

“I’m proud of you for trying something new,” Seungcheol searched the inside of the cabinet and came up with a vanilla cupcake. He put it on a plate and pushed it over towards Wonwoo who smiled brightly at his friend. “Thanks,” he nibbled at the cake, enjoying it’s sweet flavour and light texture, before looking up at Seungcheol watching him intently.

“Just say it,” he said and Seungcheol grinned. “So the shoot went well. I guess that had something to do with the way you’ve been looking at that guy.” Wonwoo flushed pink but there was no use hiding anything from Seungcheol. As difficult as it was for Wonwoo to read people, Seungcheol was the complete opposite. Everyone was an open book to Seungcheol; even Wonwoo.

“He’s going back to the city eventually,” Wonwoo stared at his cake. It was almost finished and he put it down to savour the last few bites. He took a sip of the coffee, warm and bitter against the sweet vanilla of the cake and looked up to find Seungcheol watching him intently. “What’s worse? A month or two of being insanely happy and them it being over? Leaving you with a longing that can never be filled? Or to never know that feeling and continue on like a steady flowing river that’s always running but never changes its path?”

Seungcheol stared at him with a straight face for around three seconds before his eyes crinkled and his face broke out into a huge smile. “I love when you speak in cursive,” he laughed loudly and Wonwoo took a fleeting second to decide if he should join in. He’d had to learn that Seungcheol had a great sense of humour and wasn’t making fun of him; just laughing with him. He laughed as well and it felt good, knowing Seungcheol loved him and this was his way of showing it, that he was laughing along with him and never being spiteful or malicious.

Wonwoo focused on the key word of that sentence; love. Seungcheol loved him. That made the laughing okay.

“I don’t even know if he likes me,” Wonwoo picked at the remains of his cake and Seungcheol smiled warmly. “I think he does. He looks at you the same way you’re looking at that cake.”

“I don’t even know if he likes guys.” He shoved the last bite into his mouth and savoured the light sweet taste. Seungcheol laughed again at that one. “He does. I can tell.”

Wonwoo stared at Seungcheol who’s eyes were so warm and kind. He believed his friend was telling him the truth and it made nerves swirl in his stomach with excitement, anxiety, and a little fear. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to risk it all again but he was older and wiser and smart enough to talk it out with his friends first for their opinion.

“Do you want a cat?” he asked and Seungcheol blinked at him in surprise. “A cat?” “Yeah, I have three kittens I’m fostering and Junhui said he’d have one, to take back to the city with him.” Wonwoo swallowed the last of his coffee and searched for his wallet. “I can only keep one but I thought you might want one for the café. Keep mice away and stuff.” Seungcheol waved Wonwoo’s wallet away with his usual candour and generosity. “I don’t have mice but maybe some company would do me good. I’ll think about it,” he said and Wonwoo got up to leave.

“Go see him,” Seungcheol said, “just give it a chance. Spend some time with him. He’s fragile Wonwoo, he won’t want to hurt you any more than you want to hurt him, and I bet he’s just as scared. But company would be good for him and you.”

“Thanks Cheol,” Wonwoo said as he left. He walked across the road to the hardware store for a second opinion as confusion mingled with hope in his chest.

“Good morning,” Mingyu bounced across the store and wrapped Wonwoo in one of his oppressive but joyful hugs. Wonwoo wasn’t much of a hugger, or even one for physical affection at all, but he always made an exception for Mingyu. It helped to know it was coming. It helped that Mingyu literally gave the best hugs in the world, pulling you close to his chest, hands holding you so firm but gentle by the hair and the shoulders and the waist and wherever else he could grab. “Good morning,” Wonwoo mumbled, muffled by Mingyu’s bright red polo shirt and black apron, his standard hardware store uniform.

“How was the photoshoot?’ Mingyu finally let him go and went back to stacking garden supplies onto shelves as Wonwoo followed him around. “Too many people but I got through it. I liked taking the photos and they turned out well.” Wonwoo pulled his phone out and scrolled though to find one of the photo’s he’d saved from the day before. “See?” 

“Wow,” Mingyu stopped and stared at the photo of Junhui, his golden bronzed face turned up to meet the morning sun. His hair was blowing in the breeze and the shot was perfectly framed with a few rocks in the background by the crashing waves. His shirt was ruffled and his shorts were brown and the shoes were so ugly you could never wear them on the street. He had a pair of socks pulled up his calves and a leather strap around his neck and he looked like some sort of pirate prince.

Mingyu giggled. “The clothes are funny,” he chuckled as he handed the phone back to Wonwoo. “He looks stunning though. You did well.” “He doesn’t need my help to look stunning,” Wonwoo said and then blushed as he realised he thought out aloud. “Have you told him you like him?” Mingyu’s voice was quiet and soft and Wonwoo shook his head. “I’m not crazy,” he began to help Mingyu stack the hose fittings on the shelf from a big cardboard box, wanting something to do with his hands. “Look, I know okay? I was there. This is different.”

“It’s not. I don’t know for sure, you don’t either, and he’s leaving anyway.” Wonwoo was sick of telling people Junhui was leaving. He was leaving. He didn’t want to live in a little beachside house and spend his days scraping a living together out of tourist dollars. He didn’t want a life subdued by the wind and waves and the tiny social circle they were all subject to. Junhui’s world was wide and expansive and exciting and Wonwoo’s was insular and secluded and quiet. He had nothing to offer him but books and sanding advice and a vision of himself through the lens of someone else’s affection. Someone else’s craving for something more.

Mingyu grabbed the last few hose nozzles and hung them on the shelf. “I told him you like him,” he smirked mischievously as Wonwoo’s mouth hung open in horror. “What? When? How?” he stammered and Mingyu giggled with glee. “You gave him a book Wonwoo. I just explained to him exactly how meaningful that was. Books are your love language. You give them to people you love and you show your favourite parts to your favourite people and you light up when someone wants to talk about them. He said he likes you too.”

Wonwoo shook a little. This wasn’t better, this was worse. He knew Wonwoo liked him and he liked him back and he still wanted to leave?

“He’s _leaving_ ,” Wonwoo planted his hands on his hips as petulantly as he could manage. Mingyu was so stupid sometimes. “How do you know?” Mingyu laughed at his friend’s childish display of emotion, so incongruous with the situation, his pout barely even visible. “Maybe he’s just saying that because he’s put an expiration date on his time here. Maybe he just thinks that’s what people want to hear. Maybe he’s looking for a reason to stay?”

Wonwoo didn’t like maybes. He didn’t understand them. He only saw the world in black and white, shades of grey escaped him like an elusive wave of emotion he couldn’t grasp, answers in affirmation or rejection without a middle ground. Rejection was everywhere for him, whether real or perceived, he just couldn’t distinguish. Junhui wanted to leave; that was a direct rejection of all that their little seaside village could offer him. Including Wonwoo.

“Anyway,” Mingyu went on drawing Wonwoo out of his thoughts, “It’s not like he’s leaving for another country. The city is only like three hours away. He might keep the house and come back here for holidays and weekends and stuff.” 

Why would he? He had a whole exciting world in the city just throwing itself at his feet. All there was here were the waves and the wind, kittens and books, cakes and coffee and the sand on the beach. While it all sparkled like diamonds to Wonwoo it was his world he’d made for himself. Junhui had real jewels in the city lights and the flash of a million cameras.

“Look, get out of your head Wonwoo, I can hear you overthinking from here. So what if he leaves? You aren’t going to die. You’re stronger now that you’ve ever been and you’d be going into it with open eyes and clear expectations. Wouldn’t it be worth it to have one great love even if it was only for a few months?” 

Wonwoo had to smile at that. Mingyu was such a romantic at heart and it was contagious. The idea of one great love, all consuming and incandescent, filled his chest with an ice-cold passion. Wonwoo wasn’t cold himself, he just seemed that way, but inside he was burning up. Aflame with the chance to reach out and grasp something he’d always wanted.

“It would really help you with that book of poetry you’ve been trying to write since we were sixteen,” Mingyu grinned. He knew he was winning when Wonwoo nodded. “Maybe I should give it a chance. At least it would be fun for a while and I like being around him.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mingyu grabbed Wonwoo in a headlock making the slightly shorter man shriek. He rubbed his head and then let go as Wonwoo adjusted his glasses and straightened his shirt. “Come on Wonwoo,” Mingyu helped him smooth his hair down, “be brave. Take a chance.”

_Be brave. Take a chance. Break down those walls you’ve built up to protect yourself from every threat, either real or just perceived, let them crumble down around your heart._

“I know you can do it.” Mingyu’s face was so warm and encouraging it gave Wonwoo hope. If Seungcheol and Mingyu thought he could do it then he could do it.

He wandered out of the hardware store a little aimlessly before heading to the beach. The sand was hard under his feet, compacted by a night of high tides and heavy winds, the clouds of midday just beginning to swirl around in the sky painting it grey and violet and vivid blue. It was so stunning it drew his attention and Wonwoo wished he had his camera to catch the shapes the clouds were making in the sky. He loved the sky, daytime sky with its riot of clouds always present in the wintery little town, morning sky with the sun just breaking, midnight sky with the moon in full bloom. He rarely looked at the ground.

This morning he did, though, and he almost kicked it before he realised what it was. A stunning queen conch, the size of his hand, laid empty on the beach bright in shades of yellow and pink and peach. A treasure from the ocean and prettier than any jewel Wonwoo could imagine. It was a sign, he thought, an offering reminiscent of the dawn of today. A prompt from the universe to take a chance. He clutched at it in his hands and looked out at the ocean before turning to hurry along the shore and head for Junhui’s beach house.

It was quiet as he wandered in through the front gate directly from the sand. He walked carefully up the dilapidated steps and knocked on the heavy door. Silence greeted him first as he waited. Shock greeted him second when the door flew open.

“Can I help you?”

The man who opened the door was not Junhui. He stood as tall as Wonwoo but straight and proud and sure of himself. His hair was dyed a platinum white and his skin was flawless and golden. His eyes were barely rimmed with the leftovers of last night’s eyeliner and he was shirtless showing off shoulders and arms muscular and impressive and a chest and stomach finely chiselled. He looked just like a magazine ad for the jeans slung so low on his hips Wonwoo could see the strip of hair below his bellybutton. 

He blatantly looked Wonwoo up and down, the reticent man clad in his old tshirt and brown cardigan pulled down over his hands, and waited for him to speak as he leaned casually on the door frame.

“I-is Junhui here?” Wonwoo stammered as he hid the shell behind his back. It seemed so strange in the face of this masculine perfection; the man in front of him would never think it was cute to pick up shells on the beach. He stiffened and his eyes flickered from side to side; unconsciously looking for an escape route. He didn’t even know why he was here. This was a stupid idea.

“He’s here,” the man said with a wry smile. “He’s still asleep. I got here last night and we kind of had a late one.” There was enough flirtation in his voice to tell Wonwoo exactly what he feared. This was a man of Junhui’s world. Gorgeous, confident, interesting. The kind of man who could be pulled into Junhui’s orbit and not just survive but thrive in his world of parties and fashion shows and designer accessories.

“Oh,” Wonwoo began to walk backwards, “um, that’s okay, never mind, I’ll just…” he trailed off as he turned and rushed down the front steps. He ran across the short strip of dry grass and weeds and onto the sand and kept going until he was out of view of the house on the beach. 

He ran until he couldn’t run any more and all he was left with was a burning chest desperate for oxygen and a beautiful shell clutched tight in his hands. He was so stupid, so wrong, and so were his friends. Junhui deserved people around him who could shine just as bright as he did and not fade into the shadows.

Wonwoo caught his breath and rubbed at his stinging eyes, blinking the tears which threatened to spill, before heading home to his apartment. He didn’t want to see anyone else today, he just wanted the comfort of his kittens who gave their affection freely and without complications, he craved the warmth of their quiet and unconditional love.

Junhui sat up in his little bed in the spare room. He stretched and threw a shirt on before getting up and stretching again. He found some sweatpants on the floor and pulled them on, wandering out to find Joshua messing around with his coffee machine.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty,” Joshua joked, “I thought you were never getting up.” “You should have woken me,” Junhui rubbed his eyes and took the offered mug from Joshua’s hands. “You should have been awake hours ago. Especially since we didn’t even drink.”

Junhui had never felt so proud of himself as when he watched Joshua drain the champagne bottle into the sink. It was a huge hurdle he’d overcome and couldn’t wait to tell Jeonghan about his progress. He’d stayed up late talking though some things with Joshua, all the things he’d been hiding from his friends in the industry, trying to make him understand he couldn’t go back to a life like that. He just couldn’t do it, it would kill him, he knew. 

“Yeah, well, I was tired. Recovery is tiring, working yesterday was tiring, everything is tiring. That’s why I like it here so much. I feel like it’s a more manageable pace.” Junhui sat down and sipped the coffee as he ran eyes over Joshua’s bare torso. “You could at least put a shirt on though.” “I could,” Joshua smirked as he took his own coffee over to the tiny dining table and sat across from Junhui. “You used to love my body. Now you’re so dull.”

_No_ , Junhui though, _I never loved your body. I just hated my own and I used yours to help me forget that. You used mine to feed your ego and nothing about it was healthy._

He sipped his coffee again and loved the way it reminded him of Wonwoo, of Seungcheol and the coffee shop, of food which didn’t make him want to purge and days which didn’t make him want to die. This place was healing him and Joshua’s unexpected arrival had just proved to him how much.

“Well it was enough to scare that guy away,” Joshua chuckled as he looked down at his own bare chest. “What guy?” Junhui blinked at him and Joshua shrugged. “Some weird guy came to the door looking for you about an hour ago. Dark hair, glasses, big ugly old cardigan with his arms pulled so far into it I couldn’t even see his hands. He took one look at all this and he was gone, running across the beach.” Joshua laughed again and Junhui wanted to punch him in the mouth.

“Where are you going?” Joshua asked as he watched Junhui get up from the table. “I’m going to shower and then I’m going to go and find him and fix things. And you better be gone from my house when I get back.”

Joshua wasn’t really his friend. It was only now, here through the lens of a different view, a place where time was filtered soft and round that he could learn that. Junhui was starting to learn what was healthy and what was destructive and he wanted the destruction and the chaos gone from his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and thanks for reading this far. I just wanted to call attention to something called RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) which can affect an estimated 95% of people who are neurodivergent. It’s not a seperate diagnosis but a way of categorising symptoms.
> 
> RSD causes you to see criticisms everywhere even when it’s not there and rejections when they literally don’t exist.
> 
> Eg. You see two people you like interacting and the dysphoria tells you they don’t like you because they are talking to each other, not you, they don’t interact with you like that, therefore you’re being rejected by them. 
> 
> RSD is a very difficult part of being neurodivergent and can cause extreme outbursts of sensitivity to perceived rejection. It causes extreme sensitivity to being hurt or criticised and can cause the person to set high standards for themselves and feel failure if they believe they don’t meet people’s expectations. 
> 
> If you have anyone in your life who is neurodivergent please read up and be aware of the symptoms of RSD - especially those who are autistic and / or have ADHD. The real criticisms are hard enough without dealing with the dysphoric ones as well.
> 
> * I didn’t specifically set out to make the characters in this story neurodivergent but I did want to explore some of my own experiences and feelings - these are not indicative of everyone’s experiences just my own*


	8. Chapter 8

This was bad.

Junhui’s heart hammered in his chest as the rhythm matched his feet pounding along the sand as he ran. It was lucky there had been a high tide this morning and the sand was compacted and damp which made it easier to run. He didn’t want to risk running through town and looking even more out of place than he already did. He wasn’t sure if he wanted his new and tentative friendships impacted by the sight of him tearing through the streets in his old hoodie and jeans with tears threatening the edges of his expression.

He couldn’t help but think he was chasing Wonwoo’s footsteps. The sand was holding tight to the imprints left behind from the morning and as he ran he noticed a few different tracks. The heavy drag of Hansol’s surfboard through the sand was as clear as if it had been drawn out in a diagram. There were light footsteps heading towards his house and a heavy trail leading away. He ran a little faster and began to slow when he saw the antique store up ahead, looming in the distance, it’s ancient two storey design holding sway over the whole main street of the village. He’d already guessed that Wonwoo lived above the shop and imagined a cosy little world filled with books and cats and things that felt soft and nice. He wanted to see it.

Cutting ties with Joshua was necessary; cathartic. He knew letting go of his toxic friendships had to happen. A little part of him was afraid of being ostracised, his position in the fashion world as tentative as his grasp on sobriety, but in the end he knew he held more power. He’d keep Minghao, he’d keep Chan, he’d make do with the loneliness and the singularity of a friendless life. His heart skipped a little beat when he remembered he’d have the kitten. A bundle of unconditional love and companionship. An alternative to nights hazy with alcohol and drugs and the uncomfortable warmth of strange hands on his body. A reason to stay home. A reason to stay alive.

“Come on,” Joshua smiled as he poured the champagne into the coffee mug. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

It just might though, Junhui thought as he watched, my next drink might be my last.

The smell of it was overwhelming, filling the room in a way Junhui had never sensed before. He must have had some sort of immunity to it before; his senses dulled by years of abuse. Now, in this small town where his nose was blessed with the scent of fresh ocean and warm vanilla, the champagne smelled like poison. Junhui knew one sip would send him spiralling back down a tunnel of self destruction and loathing. It was tempting thought, to drink the champagne, forget about all his problems and fall into Joshua’s arms and let the pain of pleasure consume his addled mind.

No.

“Tip it out,” he said sternly as he watched Joshua drain the coffee mug. “Tip it out now.” “Jun,” Joshua smirked as he poured another, “don’t be so boring. Come on, just have a drink, we can take it out onto the beach and sit on the sand.”

Junhui shook his head. Sitting on the sand was for coffee and breaking dawn, Hansol chasing waves in the distance and the promise of vanilla in the air, quiet conversations that his mind could keep up with and his heart was soothed by. The sand was for Wonwoo. The whole town was for Wonwoo; he was everywhere Junhui looked. He saw him in the waves and the wind, in the sawdust covering his house, in the sky and the moon and the stars. It was all him.

“Tip it out,” Junhui flared, angry, despising Joshua in that moment. He grabbed his arm and tried to pull the bottle but Joshua was bigger and stronger and laughed as if it was a game. Junhui wasn’t playing though. “Please,” he broke down, begging. He dropped to his knees and held his head in his hands and tried desperately to quiet the fluttering of his heart and the rushing in his ears. He wouldn’t have a panic attack in front of Joshua. He just didn’t want to show the other man that side of him. In the end, that was what solidified it for Junhui in his mind.

This wasn’t a friendship. This wasn’t his friend. This wasn’t a base of emotional support for him or a place to find comfort. This was devastation and destruction in slow motion and he began to slow his breathing as he faced the truth head on.

“Joshua I am asking you to tip the champagne down the sink. If you care about me at all you’ll do what I say. Please.”

He stood up to find Joshua looking at him with a level of curiosity, like he was a small animal on display in a zoo. “Fine, okay, no need to carry on so dramatically…” Joshua downed the rest of the champagne in his coffee mug and proceeded to pour the rest of the alcohol down the sink with a dour pout of disappointment. “I’ll have to stay now,” he smirked as he left the empty bottle in the sink, “I can’t drive after drinking.”

“You should come back,” Joshua said as he wandered through Junhui’s house. “It’s so musty here and everything smells like mud.” He trailed a hand across the stand in the hallway before walking into the master bedroom. Drop sheets covered the floor surrounding the bed frame where Junhui had been diligently sanding everything back by hand. He’d stained one bedside cupboard and was thrilled with the rose mahogany finish. He couldn’t wait to see the finished product.

“Should have just got a new one from IKEA,” Joshua said scornfully. It made sense. No one in Junhui’s world understood the value of something broken and dejected being given a second change. No one understood the value of renewal.

Junhui would never let someone like Joshua sleep in his bed again. Not his bed in his inner-city apartment with the thousand thread count sheets, not his tiny single here he was making do with, and definitely not in this stunning piece of antiquity that deserved so much more.

“I’m tired,” Junhui answered before turning his back on Joshua. “I want to go to sleep now. You’ll have to take the couch.”

He almost kicked it before he looked down and saw it. A shell, pink and white and cream and peach, stunningly beautiful and larger than any Junhui had ever seen in real life. It looked staunchly out of place so high up here from the tide line and it drew his eye immediately. It was just the kind of thing Wonwoo would love. Wonwoo saw the true value in the beauty of many different objects. He saw past the rough edges and through to the core of what made something beautiful. He was just like that. Everything was black and white with him. Something was either beautiful and valuable and precious or it wasn’t. If it was he would treasure it without regard for it’s monetary value or it’s relevance to others. If it wasn’t then he paid it no mind.

Junhui stopped and ran fingers over the shell washed smooth and glossy by the waves. He wanted to be one of those things to Wonwoo; something which could be polished smooth by the wind and the waves and the sand to reveal a precious core of beauty and value. He knew Wonwoo would be able to find it inside him.

Junhui clutched the shell in his hand and struggled up the coastal path, through the sand dune dotted with seaside grass and daisies, and onto the concrete road leading to the antique store.

Wonwoo squinted at his computer screen as he wiped his eyes again. He was overwhelmed by this strange feeling in his stomach and the tears which wouldn’t stop pouring from his eyes. The last time Wonwoo had cried was four years ago and it felt as strange then as it did now. At least last time he cried it was because his beloved cat had been run over by a tourist in a big SUV with a caravan on the back. He’d sobbed over the gory scene until Mingyu had, as per usual, come to his rescue. He’d directed Wonwoo to the café and Seungcheol had kept him safe while Mingyu cleaned her up with a shovel and a soft hessian sack.

They’d buried her that night, underneath a lonely pine by the hideous plastic playground across the road, and Wonwoo had cried until he collapsed from exhaustion. He’d cried over the tangible loss of someone meaningful and close to him. An end.

This time he didn’t know why he was crying. Confusion reigned as he tried to understand the vacant loss he felt when Junhui had never even been his to begin with. It was like trying to catch the moon and hold it in your hands; Junhui was beautiful and free and would never belong to him or anyone. There was no relationship to mourn, no loss, they were still somewhat friends if that’s how Wonwoo wanted to define it. But the thought of that man, all muscles and platinum white hair and delicate features, with his lips on Junhui’s and his hands on his body made Wonwoo feel nauseous.

He hated it. He hated even considering it. He’d never considered himself a jealous or possessive person, usually a man of cool calm nature, but anger rose in his chest at the thought of that man in Junhui’s bed. Junhui was precious and Wonwoo didn’t trust the white-haired man to treat him carefully and reverently like he deserved. These people had let Junhui’s life spiral out of control and praised him for it while they watched. He was just a novelty to them; something to be stared at and poked at like a curiosity or an unusual trinket.

Wonwoo scrolled through the photos again and ignored the little itch in his brain that told him he was obsessing; fixated. He couldn’t get enough of the photos, just flicking through them and zooming in here and there, admiring a certain beauty mark on Junhui’s lip or the angle of his shoulder. Looking at him through a screen was better than not at all but the lonely hole inside which had never ever ached like this didn’t agree. His heart wanted Junhui even if it was only for a little while.

He could love him and care for him and let him go, he was sure of it, he’d done it with kittens before and he could do it again. His kittens were all going to be adopted and leave and he’d be sad when they went but he’d live. He always consoled themselves with the knowledge that they were going off to a better life, a happy life with new people who would love them and care for them and treasure them, and it always made him feel good. He’d fostered for the shelter a few times and so he knew how to say goodbye.

At least this time he was keeping a kitten and Junhui was too and it would be an unbreakable thread the universe couldn’t sever. They would be bound across distance by this one tangible bond. Maybe it would even be enough of an excuse to keep in contact. He could email Junhui in the city and ask about the kitten’s progress and maybe even go and visit them. Would it be enough?

Could he risk the shattering of his fragile heart for the chance at one great love even if he was only left with memories?

An undetermined length of time passed with Wonwoo scrolling through the pictures again before getting the kittens out for another bottle. He played with them all in turn, taking joy in their antics as they clawed at his hands and vied for his attention, and decided not to open the shop at all today.

Junhui rattled the door handle even thought the store was obviously closed. His eyes searched frantically for any sign of life inside, a light or movement, but there was none. He felt the pressure of panic rising again and closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths. He was on the edge today, he could feel it in every single cell of his body, the fear and the anxiety boiling under his skin. He tried to quiet his breathing, slowing every inhale, focusing on the smell of the ocean, the feeling of the sun on his face, the sound of gentle waves rolling in the low breeze. He calmed himself and looked around the building for any sort of entrance but found none. The only way up to Wonwoo’s little flat was through the locked antique store.

He couldn’t even call him; he still didn’t have his number. He was learning fast to understand that innuendo and nuances were lost on Wonwoo. The man just couldn’t process implications. If he wanted his phone number he was going to have to ask for it. He didn’t think sitting out here on the street firing off emails was going to be as effective.

Junhui walked over across the road to the small patch of grass that lined the beach. Someone well-meaning had decided a playground would be a good addition to the town and the garish colours and plastic looked out of place nestled amongst the old buildings. Even the grocery store had been inset into an ancient looking building with its original storefront and façade. Junhui looked around and realised all the shops had apartments over the top. They were all two storeys: the hardware store and the grocery store, the café, and the antique store. Everyone must live over their workplace.

Envy swirled in his stomach; the slow pace of this lifestyle was something he craved. It was such an anathema of his fast-paced frantic city lifestyle but what would he do here? How could he make a living here amongst the established community and what if he got bored? What if his mental health couldn’t adjust to the slow pace on a permanent basis even though he couldn’t handle the city either? Where was the magical middle ground that was going to cure him and make him turn his life around?

He sat cross legged on the grass to wait for any sign of Wonwoo. He was worth waiting for even if he had to sit here all day. He took his phone out of his pocket, checked his messages, disregarding the ones from Joshua. He’d left as asked but his messages were thinly veiled with passive aggressive remarks about how Junhui had changed.

Good, he thought.

I needed to change. Something was working.

There were a few barely coherent messages from Chan and so he called him. “Jun!” the younger screamed in his ear down the phone, “they love the photos. Every single one of them. That guy who took them, he’s kind of quiet, but he’s a genius! The editor was literally gushing over them!” “That’s great,” Junhui said as his eyes stayed watchful on the antique store. “I’ll make sure to tell him how much they loved them. And send his payment to my bank details and I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“He’s really talented,” Chan breathed down the phone. “I’d love to work with him again.”

“Me too,” Junhui said before hanging up the phone.

He lay back on the grass and stared at the sky. It was clear, unusually so, the sun bright and the sky blue as far as the eye could see. It was so absolutely blue Junhui couldn’t remember ever seeing anything so vivid and brilliant. It made him uneasy; the sky was always bluest before a storm. Was it pessimistic or just preparedness to be suspicious and ready for the incoming squall?

He blinked and closed his eyes before rolling over and around onto his stomach so he could keep an eye on the little flat and the shop for any sign of Wonwoo.

After about half an hour his tummy rumbled. Hunger was foreign to him. Not in it’s feeling but in it’s meaning. Hunger to him used to mean power and control, a force to be wielded over his body, a way to keep the demons in his head quiet and subdued. Now he just felt hungry. He wanted to eat. He lifted his heavy body up from the grass and dragged it across to the café.

“Good morning!” Seungcheol’s gorgeous sunny smile always greeted him so warmly. “Good morning?” Junhui looked over at the clock which had just ticked over to 12pm and chuckled despite his gloomy mood. He tried not to frown as he sat at the counter and flicked over the menu. “anything in particular today?” Seungcheol asked and Junhui nodded. “Yes. An iced tea….” He’d already had a few coffees and some tea would do him good. “Avocado toast.” He settled back on the high-backed stool and fiddled with his phone while he waited.

“Just tea and toast?” Seungcheol put the thick cut bread down in front of him, topped artfully with sliced avocado and drizzled with sea salt and lemon juice, just next to the conch shell he’d put down carefully. There were a few slices of lemon in the tea too and Junhui hummed to himself as he took a sip. It was neither too sweet nor too bitter and he felt the cold crisp liquid settle well in his stomach. “That’s all today thank you. No crying and no counselling needed.” He smiled and the smile returned to him was somehow even brighter.

“Wonwoo said you’re going to take one of the cats.” Seungcheol busied himself with a tea towel cleaning the already clean counter and bench. “I’m taking one too. He’s keeping the third so we’re kind of going to be a family.” The words hit Junhui hard. He missed his family at home in China and he’d thought the world he’d created around him was enough of a replacement. Until he realised it was all false and he was suffering from loneliness. A family?

Him and a kitten was a good start. The beginning of a new family and a fresh start.

“The adoptive fathers of three sisters,” Junhui hummed wryly in interest as he nibbled at the toast. “I guess so.”

“Where is Wonwoo this afternoon?” Seungcheol had no idea he was stirring chaos in Junhui’s mind as he made idle chatter but he seemed to know more than Junhui expected. “He usually comes in for lunch but I haven’t seen him since this morning.” “I don’t know,” Junhui’s mouth turned down as he sipped his tea. “The shop isn’t open and I don’t have his number.”

Seungcheol was an expert at people. The understanding of intricacies of the human nature that Wonwoo was missing were amplified in the man standing behind the counter. He was a talented and warm empath, easily reading people’s emotions and knowing instinctively just how to soothe them, and this occasion was no different. He could see the disappointment in Junhui’s eyes, the space left by Wonwoo’s absence, and the contrast with Wonwoo’s mood that morning.

“You know, just above the mailbox, there’s a doorbell. If you ring it he will come down and open the store for you.” Seungcheol smiled gently, eyeing the conch shell on the counter, as he watched realisation spread across Junhui’s face. Seungcheol knew he had no interest in anything in the store besides Wonwoo. “He was going to come and see you this morning. Didn’t he come?”

“He did,” Junhui picked at a slice of avocado with disinterest, “but it went wrong. It wasn’t his fault though.” “Look,” Seungcheol leaned closer and Junhui felt himself draw in, like he was about to hear all the secrets of the universe. “He’s really trying. I know it doesn’t seem like it but he is. He’s also scared and fragile and…… different. He can’t take the first steps but if you do them he’ll be able to walk alongside.” Seungcheol instinctively reached out and ran his hand across the back of Junhui’s arm and the touch didn’t scare him. It was innocent and meaningful in its message of compassion and sincerity.

“This is him trying.”

“This is me trying too,” Junhui replied.

“He really likes shells. He also likes these takeaway fruit cups,” Seungcheol said as he got two out of the refrigerated counter behind him. “Take them. On the house.” “Okay,” Junhui said but he took cash out of his wallet and stuffed a $20 into the tip jar. “No more freebies though. I’m not going to send you broke.”

Junhui felt a little lighter as he took the two clear cups filled with a veritable rainbow of fruits and his conch from the beach and headed back to the antique store.

It took a moment for Junhui to calm himself before juggling the fruit cups and the shell in one hand and pressing the previously unseen button with the other. If he didn’t know it was there he would have never noticed it. It was gilt and edged in gold and looked like part of the wall, blending with the heavy dark timber of the doorframe and the mailbox just below it. He heard the far-off buzz it made and held his breath a little as he waited.

Wonwoo might be angry; he should be angry. Joshua was a jerk and he could only imagine the cocky way he’d spoken to Wonwoo who probably retreated like a mouse from the jaws of a lion. He might not want to see him. Every insecurity Junhui had flowed through his veins like poison as he tried to relax and breathe again. He listened intently for the thump of feet and he heard them, drumming into the timber staircase like the sound of rain, and then the door was opening and Wonwoo was in front of him.

“Hi,” Wonwoo said, expression stoic and completely unflappable. If his insides were tumultuous Junhui couldn’t tell.

“Hi,” Junhui said as he held out the fruit cups as a peace offering. “I really wanted to see you today.”

Time seemed to stand still as Wonwoo stared at him. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like forever before he finally relented. “Come in,” he moved from the doorway and let Junhui into the shop.

Junhui followed him around bookcases groaning with the weight of a million worlds. He followed Wonwoo’s silent footsteps across the carpeted floor to the back where a dark oak staircase was nestled behind a cupboard. He stepped onto it and ascended, his eyes on Wonwoo’s back, his breath nervous and weighted heavy with the unknown.

At the top a door was open and when he stepped across the threshold Junhui felt again like he’d walked into another world.

The walls of the little apartment were lined with bookcases and any space available was covered with prints of what he assumed were Wonwoo’s photos. There was a plush looking couch and a tv and every surface was covered with fluffy blankets and an assortment of pillows. This was more than just a living area; it was a cocoon from the world. This was a place to cosy up and get comfortable and lose yourself. A small kitchen stood off to the side and there were two doors which Junhui assumed belonged to the bedroom and bathroom. All the woodwork was old looking, dark oak with a rich walnut stain, making the room feel like a shield from the wind and the waves outside.

He didn’t know what to say so he just held the cup out in front of him again. “Seungcheol said you like fruit.” The corners of Wonwoo’s mouth turned up just enough as he took the clear plastic cup and walked over to a tiny square table set under the window. “I do like fruit,” he said as he put the cup down and took two spoons from a drawer. “Thank you.”

Junhui clutched the conch so tightly he thought he might crush it. He swallowed his pride bubbling up in his stomach and held it out towards Wonwoo. “I-I found this on the beach. I thought you would like it.” “I do,” Wonwoo’s face contorted in a fleeting rush of feelings he wasn’t quick enough to mask. “I already found it this morning but dropped it. I came to see you, to bring it to you, but there was a man…..” Wonwoo blinked and took the shell from Junhui’s fingers and turned it over as he inspected every inch of its glossy surface.

“I should have just been…. I shouldn’t have….” Wonwoo struggled to articulate what he felt and where he thought he went wrong. Junhui had to move in quicky to reassure him and relive him of any guild. “No,” he clasped his hands over Wonwoo’s locking the shell between them. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Joshua is a jerk and he shouldn’t have even been there. I didn’t want him there and he’s gone now.”

A fresh wave of realisation washed over Wonwoo’s expression and it softened the edges of his face considerably. “I thought he was your… boyfriend? He had no shirt on. He seemed like he belonged and I don’t.” “He doesn’t.” Junhui’s words were rushed, tumbling out of him in a desperate need to make Wonwoo understand. “He’s not my boyfriend and there’s no feelings between us. Actually, after this morning, I don’t even think I can consider him a friend.”

Junhui stared at Wonwoo’s lips. They were a little dry looking, chapped from the wind, red in one spot where he had worried the sensitive skin between his teeth. He was struck with an overwhelming need to kiss them, to feel their warmth, to feel anything other than the sick twisted gnaw of anxiety and loneliness.

“I like you,” he blurted out and Wonwoo didn’t seem surprised. “Okay,” he said but his lips twitched at the corners again. “I like you too. But I freak out when I think about you leaving.”

To be quite honest with himself Junhui did too. He couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to his old life and having to deal with the demons that danced around every corner just waiting to snare him in their terrible claws. He’d faced them last night and won but could he keep up that strength when he was adrift in a different environment without all these anchors tethering him to sobriety?

“I do too,” Junhui admitted. The honesty was liberating and it seemed to soothe something inside Wonwoo as well. He took a seat and put the conch in the middle of the table and handed Junhui a spoon. Junhui sat across from him and the room was filled with silence as they ate. Wind whipped the building outside but it was warm in the apartment over the antique store and Junhui had never felt safer.

Now that he was being honest with himself, and with Wonwoo, he was faced with a new problem. He was able to see exactly what it was drawing him to Wonwoo like a force of gravity. He was smitten.

Wonwoo had relaxed significantly and was laughing as he sat cross legged on the floor. One of the kittens was pulling at the end of his sock which was hanging loose and his eyes were scrunched up in delight. His nose scrunched too, Junhui noticed, his whole face twisting and contorting in happiness. It made Junhui happy too. It made him stare at his lips, fixated on the way they moved when he laughed, filled with a desire to taste them. He just didn’t know how to get there.

The empty fruit containers were discarded on the table and the wind was picking up, whistling around the eaves and roof tiles of the ancient building. It was solid though and barely even rattled. “They loved your photos,” Junhui said as he tickled the belly of the kitten in his lap. She was more relaxed than the one terrorising Wonwoos socks and he relished in the fluffy feel of her stomach and chest under his fingertips.

“It was easy to take your picture,” Wonwoo grinned brightly at Junhui in a way he’d never seen before and he was struck by the realisation of what was so different. This was Wonwoo’s space. He was comfortable here surrounded by his things and relaxed in his own world where everything was so familiar and it seemed so safe.

Junhui shivered a little and the minutiae of the movement wasn’t lost on Wonwoo. “I’ll put the heat on if you’re cold?” he asked as he looked out the window. Junhui’s eyes followed his and he noticed the sky had turned dark; purple and grey replacing the vivid blue of just a few hours ago. “Or we could use the blankets.”

“Blankets are fine,” Junhui got up and deposited the little kitten back into the crate stationed inside a pen in the kitchen. He settled himself on the couch and was about to reach for the nearest rug before deciding to wait. “Is there one that’s your favourite?”

“This one,” Wonwoo had secured the kittens away for a nap and reached for a thick fluffy grey blanket from the back of the couch. “We can watch a movie if you want; if-if you don’t have anything you need to do.”

“I don’t have anything I need to do.” Junhui was about to grab for a soft looking pink knitted rug when Wonwoo sat down next to him and threw the grey one over both their laps. The sudden closeness was unexpected but not unwelcome and Junhui relaxed further into the couch.

The tv played a Ghibli movie softly and Junhui struggled to map out a plan of action. He wanted to move closer, to feel Wonwoo’s skin, his hands and his cheeks and his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone, most of his experience sexual or otherwise was hazy with alcohol and drugs. He just didn’t know how to close the distance between them. It was inches across the couch that felt like miles and miles of open space and he was just too nervous to cross it.

“Do you believe in past lives?” Wonwoo said, suddenly drawing his eyes away from the movie, and Junhui turned to face him. “I’m not sure.” He’d never really thought about it but watching the expressions flicker across Wonwoo’s face told him that he had thought about it a lot. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Wonwoo whispered and turned his face away just as

Junhui caught the pink flush dusting his cheeks.

Silence enveloped them and the move played and Junhui began to relax again. He began to think less and less about how he was going to kiss Wonwoo and more about how he was going to treasure him. Even when he had to leave the memory of this day would always live on in his mind. Something precious no one could ever take from him; from them.

He was more enamoured with Wonwoo than with the movie, watching his face contort in delight, sorrow, excitement and joy. Wind howled in the background outside the cosy apartment and Junhui snuggled deeper under the blanket. By some miracle the universe intervened and his hand accidentally brushed Wonwoo’s under the blanket and when the other didn’t flinch or pull away Junhui didn’t either.

It was all he needed, that first magical touch of skin on skin, and he tangled their fingers together. Wonwoo turned to him and smiled so warmly he looked like a completely different person. His fingers were cold but they burned a blazing fire across Junhui’s hand and Junhui couldn’t contain the butterflies filling his stomach. When Wonwoo shifted a little closer the butterflies multiplied and spilled up into his chest, into his throat and threatened to break free.

“I’d like to kiss you,” Junhui said as he watched Wonwoo’s tongue flick out to wet his lips. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. Not properly.” Wonwoo’s voice seemed to drop two octaves as he replied and leaned in a little. Junhui drew in a breath and decided to reach out and grab this fragile thing they had with both hands and hold on for dear life. He had to. He wanted it more than anything.

“It’s okay,” he leaned in, “I’ll show you how.” He sounded more confident than he felt but he leaned in anyway and fitted their lips together. It was nervous, tentative and reserved, but warm and damp and wonderful. Junhui let go of Wonwoo’s hand and reached up to cup his cheeks with his hands, stroking his thumb along Wonwoo’s jawline. He pulled back a little when he felt Wonwoo smile against his mouth but pressed back in straight away.

He licked out gently, prodding for space, and Wonwoo acquiesced shyly. Wonwoo parted his lips and Junhui surged forward, overwhelmed, tongue sliding hot and wet into Wonwoo’s mouth. A tiny startled sound slipped out from Wonwoo’s lips and Junhui chased it with his tongue. He licked slowly and carefully into Wonwoo’s mouth and flushed hot all over when he finally felt Wonwoo’s tongue push back.

His hands wandered down from his his cheek, his jaw, down to Wonwoo’s shoulders. Junhui let one rest there as the other gathered Wonwoo closer by the waist and then Wonwoo was holding him too; pulling him closer, tighter, kissing him deeper and sighing into it with a muted satisfaction.

The wind roared outside but inside no one heard it. The weight of his heart had never felt more like a heavy burden but in this moment Junhui finally understood someone could help him carry it. It wasn’t his burden alone. The cold outside, the wind and the waves, all faded in the wake of Wonwoo’s lips carving a place in his heart. He’d never felt anything like this before but instead of being overwhelming and terrifying it was somehow soothing. Like he’d been battling his way through a wild winter storm and kissing Wonwoo was opening the door. It was nothing short of a revelation.

Junhui was coming home.


End file.
